Unicorn Child
by Blue Lycan
Summary: War is imminent and the people's only hope rests on the shoulders of Harry Potter. But in a cruel twist of fate Harry Potter is dead... but what happens when a strange man with a lightning bolt scar appears, speaking parsletongue and announcing war upon V
1. Blackbird

**It's another Harry disappearing fic!**

**But this is no usual fanfiction, no- this is BETTER!**

**Read and Review, I assure you that you won't regret it.**

…

**Disclaimer: CRAP! I don't own this! DAMN J.K. ROWLING! **

Intro

You are born for someone, and someone is born for you.

The moment the first whispers of your soul are heard on the wind, the first rays of your sunlight hit the earth; there is another soul just for you.

There are 6 billion muggles on the planet; three billion of them join with the other three billion. But amongst all of the people on the planet it's very hard for one little person to find their soul mate, and in most cases people simply settle for second best, or third best, going through hundreds, or thousands. 

There are roughly 2 billion wizards on the planet; a billion of them join with the other billion. Their souls simmer with magic since the moment they are born, and the magic helps draw their souls to their soul mate. But again, it is a large world, and more often than not wizards just settle for second best, or third best, going through hundreds, or thousands.

Lily and James Potter were soul mates, from the moment that James saw Lily on their first day of their third year, he loved her. Lily's soul called for James, and James responded. They had Harry, whose darling emerald eyes already belonged to someone else, just as with everyone else on the planet.

On the rare occasion that people find their soul mate, they become amongst the happiest beings on the planet. As happy as the sky larks that sing to the skies, as happy as the unicorns that canter through the forest, never to be broken until death do they part.

And die they did. James died for Lily, and Lily died for her beautiful baby son, Harry.

But Lily did something that only a being that had found eternal happiness could do. She gave part of her soul to her child, her little Harry, the baby with her eyes, the baby whose jet-black hair belonged to his father. A little bit of Lily sunk into the depths of little Harry's heart, saving him from death on more than one occasion. Little baby Harry, from that moment on, became more than a wizard.

We are only designed for one soul; we are only designed to house one being within us, one bubble of life and love, of death and pain. We are not meant for two, we would die with two, but little Harry didn't.

A unicorn is the only being on the planet that has two souls. Their wondrous life giving blood, their unfathomable beauty, they are so in touch with the earth beneath their hoofs, the wind in their miens, that they can be blessed with more than one soul. If you drink a unicorn's blood, you drink one of their souls while the other carries onto the next life, and the body rejects it, giving a half-life.

Little Harry has more than one soul, little Harry is special. Harry is so pure, so innocent, kind, loving, caring that life let him keep the other soul, making him more than anyone shall ever know. But he is no unicorn, merely a unicorn child. Wizard blood still pumps through his veins, and although he no longer has the soul of any being on the planet, he is still human. Harry still cries, Harry still hates, Harry still lives and dies as every other being.

But Harry is more…

And upon the moment he was thrown into that cupboard, his angelic innocence was shattered. His purity was bleached by the suffering little Harry went through, his white clarity tinted by the bruises that marred his skin. Little Harry wouldn't be a unicorn any longer, he was something different, something blemished and spoiled.

Harry was special…

Harry was a new being, a new core in the body of a small child, with the ability to cause such love-

-And such pain.

Little Harry could have been an angel, little Harry could have been a demon, and little Harry could have been anything and everything he could have wanted.

Harry chose to be Harry

And Harry was something the world had never seen…

So pure, yet bruised dark, little Harry was more than a wizard, more than a child, more than a unicorn.

Harry was Harry, and the world wouldn't be ready for Harry.

Not yet

…

"BOY!" Vernon growled from the other side of the cupboard, jerking the locks and banging against the wood as he tried to rip open the thin partition between himself and his cowering nephew.

Little Harry Potter curled himself up tightly against the bottles of bleach on the shelves above his cot, shutting his eyes up as tight as he could in the hope that the last of his blood would go away. Family, the word was supposed to connote love and affection, yet Harry didn't know what that was. Family for little Harry was being beaten and worked to the bone, going to sleep each night with aching muscles and waking up each morning with just the same.

The door finally ripped open and mid morning sunlight streamed through, making little Harry clamp his eyes shut tighter against the glare, against the huge looming shadow in its wake. Harry felt the huge fist coming toward him before it reached the scruff of his neck, before he'd even opened his eyes.

Vernon hauled his nephew out of the gloom, out of the smell of cleaning products and into the bitter, stale smell of their immaculate hallway. He ignored the child's whimpers as he unceremoniously dragged him across the smoothly polished floor, through the kitchen, and out of the back door.

The sun shone brightly, glistening beautifully yet wilting the plants beneath it as though a roaring inferno. Harry felt the sharp stones lining his aunt's rock garden cutting into his lower back as he was dragged over them, and bit his lower lip sharply with his little teeth as he felt his eyes prick. His back was raw from his uncle's belt merely half an hour before hand, and as he felt every small bump in the grass knock against his open wounds he couldn't hold the small wine at the back of his throat.

His uncle grunted as he hauled the small boy before him and pushed him onto his knees before the flowerbed, cutting his small knee on the edge of a trowel making him whimper quietly as he curled up against his knees. The huge man's moustache bristled as he puffed out his chest and looked down with his purple face, glaring with his small squinty blue eyes. Harry slowly twisted his little body around and looked up against the glare of the sun at his uncle, seeing his large chins wobbling with distaste.

"The Sprocket's will be arriving at any minute, and we don't want you anywhere near them to cause more of your catastrophes. Go out the back gate and be back before Dudders, do you understand?" he grunted, and Harry nodded furiously in return.

"Good," he huffed, and kicked open the back gate before throwing his nephew onto the gravel, slamming it shut behind him. Harry picked himself up shakily, pushing himself up onto his knees and using the fences lining either side to get to his feet. His knee was bleeding freely, running down the leg of his too large shorts and into his dull white socks. He sucked in a breath and pushed down the small alleyway, glad to get as far away from his 'home' as he could.

Harry heard the squeals of laughter form children from one of the other gardens, and his wide emerald eyes lifted up to a small knot in the wood as he looked through on his tiptoes. There were three children, perhaps his age although one looked slightly younger, playing in a sprinkler that cast a rainbow against the pearly droplets.

The small boy stared, transfixed, as he felt a small bubble of foreign emotions well inside of him. They were laughing so happily, squealing as they ran over the stream in their bathing costumes and giggling as they tried to catch butterflies in small home-made fishing nets made from the bags oranges come in. His shining emerald eyes, the eyes of lush forests and venom, dulled and saddened as he watched. He felt like an outsider of that sort of happiness, he felt as though he didn't belong there with him.

He didn't, he was a freak. Just as his aunt and uncle had said many times before, just as he had proved with all of the strange things that he did. The little boy sighed quietly and dropped back onto the soles of his battered leather shoes, bowing his head as he walked quietly away. Away from the love and happiness he deserved for yet another day, away from how a child's life should be.

Harry didn't know what he had done, how he had been bad, yet he was always punished. He supposed he was just a misfit, a bad seed or black sheep, so terrible that he didn't even realise he was doing it. But there was a time that he hadn't been punished; he remembered little bits of it. He remembered a man with hair slightly shorter than his own, with shining eyes and glasses that weren't stuck together with masking tape. He remembered a woman with hair as red as flames, with his own emerald orbs. He remembered them smiling down at him or cooing at him as he giggled. He could see two other men, one with kind eyes and hair the colour of copper gold, reading him stories, and he could see a man with a happy smile and funny hair that he loved to tug.

Little Harry looked down sadly as he entered the main street and began making his way towards the park, keeping to the bushes and corners in the hope of disappearing all together. He was probably just imagining those people, because he remembered his aunt and uncle screeching that his parents were terrible people. He had heard his aunt Marge telling him that his father was a drunk and his mother was a whore, whatever that was, so they couldn't be them. He didn't know the other two men either, so perhaps they didn't exist and it was merely his imagination.

The small boy pushed open the red gates leading into the park, wincing as he felt the bones in his arm that had healed wrong cracking softly under the strain. Had anyone seen him, they would not have guessed that he was nearly eight. His small frame and innocent face, bright green eyes and messy mop of hair, made him look more around five than his actual age. His skin was a little too pale; it was burned from gardening making his skin go raw on his back and arms. His glasses were held together with brown masking tape, making them stand away from his face because of the large ball over the bridge, and there was a small crack in the right frame.

Harry scuttled past the children playing happily without drawing any attention to himself and made his way over to the small clump of woodland and into the shade. His worn shoes crunched over the woodchips as he pulled his hair over his eyes to hide the scar on his forehead and the two emeralds that drew so much attention. Harry curled up against the trunk of a tree, the dry dirt underneath cushioning him and creeping into his bloodied socks, and sighed quietly as he tried to put little pressure on the sores over his back.

For what could have been hours little Harry sat in the shade of a tree, too still to be noticed and too quiet to be a normal child. Shrouded in shadows that wrapped around him under the braches shielding him protectively form the heat of the day, the only things that shone out were the two burning eyes that searched the park in silence. So much age to eyes so young following a hard life with lessons that were learnt far too soon, they had so much depth that it could make many gasp, and many others become entranced. His eyes observed those around him, figuring out the people that played and how they thought, why they did different things and why not others. People fascinated him, but for some reason he didn't feel like one, he was just an outsider. People were happy and normal, and Harry Potter was neither happy, nor normal.

For little Harry wasn't a normal little boy.

A bird's song broke the noise of children laughing, and Harry almost felt as though their voices were drowning under the spell of the little bird's voice. Harry brought his eyes up cautiously, moving for the first time in minutes, and peered up into the branches through his cracked glasses in an attempt to see what creature could be so happy to sing such a melody. The canopy shone against the sunlight, rendering Harry's sight useless as the leaves swayed and planted the patterns over his small frame. The singing stopped and he let his eyes drop again, slumping his shoulders foreword slightly in defeat.

Nothing could be that happy, he had just been imagining it, he must have. He sighed and played quietly with his hands, looking at his raw fingers from hours of scrubbing the floors and digging up weeds in the garden with his hands. He wished he could have a family that were like the ones in the park, he longed to see what it felt like in comparison to what he had at the moment. Was he happy where he was? He knew that he didn't like being beaten, didn't like his small dark cupboard and slaving away until his hands were raw, but was he happy? Truthfully Harry didn't know what happy was, so he wouldn't be able to tell.

The small boy jumped, eyes widening in sudden fright as he saw something small drop before him. His back scraped against the bark of the tree and he choked back a small sob that threatened to escape, his breathing erratic as he steadied himself and curiously looked over his legs to see what it was. Harry's emerald eyes widened and dimmed as he looked down to see the body of a small blackbird, lying lifeless and bloodied on the ground before him. Laughter rang from the other side of the park and the child looked up to see Dudley high five his best friend with one hand while holding his brand new BB gun in the other.

Harry looked back down, frightened, and Dudley disappeared knowing that his mission of destroying Harry's fun was completed. The little bird had been happy, it had sung with such a beautiful voice that it made Harry's soul well with joy, and now it was dead. It died at the hands of his cousin, at the hands of the BB gun that would be abandoned within a week.

A lone tear slid down the child's cheek as he gently gathered the limp bird in his hands and brought it to his chest. He had managed to hold back his tears when he'd been beaten this morning, when he'd scraped his knee earlier, even when he as locked in the dark that he hated so much. But upon seeing something so pure die, upon seeing someone die for no reason at all, for no reason other than the amusement of a boy, it was sickening. Harry clutched the little bird softly, feeling the soft feathers between his fingers from the rapidly cooling body.

This bird had died because of him; this bird had died because Harry had liked its song. If it weren't for him the bird wouldn't be dead, the bird would be happy and would sing to make other people happy too. More tears joined the first and dripped between Harry's fingers, onto the small black body in his gentle hands, and wished with all of his might that he could take it back, that the bird were alive again.

Harry jumped as he felt something wriggling between his fingers, and snapped open his eyes as he heard the sound of terrified chirping from between his hands. He gasped and let go of the small bird, which only just managed to flutter to its feet before him, and leant back against the tree as he stared at it wide-eyed.

The bird had been dead

And now it was alive

Harry let out a small frustrated noise as he clamped his hands together, a wind rustling through his unruly hair and the leaves in the trees as he did so. He was being a freak again, he was being abnormal and abnormal was bad. But that bird and alive now, wasn't that good? He frowned and wiped the tears furiously from his cheeks as he put his head in his hands. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why couldn't he be normal so his family could love him, so that he could be as happy as that little bird?

A lone sob escaped his fingers as tears began to run freely between his fingers, no longer aware of the attention he would have gained had anyone been there. Why couldn't they just love him? Why couldn't they hug him like those children in the park and tell him that it's okay when he misses a spot on his cleaning? Why couldn't they be there to put a plaster on his knee when he scrapes it, why couldn't they be the ones to read him bedtime stories and leave the light on so that he didn't have to stare into the darkness with the smells of bleach all around him?

Harry became dimly aware of the small weight that landed on his left shoulder as he shook quietly, wishing that his life were different. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve as he turned to see what it was.

The little black bird held his gaze with its intense golden eyes, before bursting into a quick note of song that made him smile.

"Hello Turdus," He said quietly as he reached out with his finger and gently ran it over the birds shining black breast. He didn't question how he knew the little birds name; he was merely entranced by its shining golden eyes and feathers that almost glistened red in the sun. The bird let out a small chirrup and jumped off his shoulder and onto the dirt below, where it began hopping towards the tree line.

Harry watched sadly as his first friend disappeared, watching it's coppery feathers as it hopped into the trees. He shut his eyes and began to push himself awkwardly to his feet, leaning on the trunk for support, and looked up to see the sun low in the sky, which meant he should be getting back, should he not want to be punished. Harry wiped away the last tear streaks from his face and took a steadying breath, he'd need all the preparation he could get, he'd usually done something wrong even if he didn't remember doing it.

But something stopped him, just as he brought his first leg foreword to take him towards his home, towards his dark cupboard and the smells of chemicals, he felt something drawing him back. Harry turned around slowly, peering into the plants even though he didn't know what for, and spotted the small form of the little bird staring at him from between two thin trees. Harry stared at the small creature, wondering why such a pretty little bird would want anything to do with him. He was a freak, so why would this little bird want to be near him?

The small blackbird hopped backwards for a few feet over the undergrowth of dried leaves and high grass, and Harry could do nothing but follow him.

The small boy disappeared into the trees, and didn't come back out.

From that day on, Harry Potter was dead to the world.

With it went the wizarding worlds only hope.

But appearances can be deceiving…


	2. Game on

**Thanks for all of the reviewers! I really appreciated your feedback and I'm glad I've caught your attention.**

**Onward!**

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Eight years past, and the world had shed their tears for the young boy who they all thought would save them. Albus Dumbledore searched for five years before he found himself defeated for the first time in his life. He scoured the globe, sure that the boy was still alive, and didn't find so much as a trace of the boy he had sentenced to his relatives.

Sirius Black was released from Azkaban after 10 years into his incarceration, after Peter Pettigrew was captured by ministry officials and forced to speak under vertalism. Given a full pardon from the ministry and another few hundred thousand to the Black family vault, he took the position of History of Magic teacher after they let the previous ghost go thanks to record breaking lows in the subject. His mothers rants about their history finally paid off-

-But he still refused to be called professor.

Remus Lupin was found travelling the globe six years after Harry disappeared by the only other living marauder, Sirius Black, after he'd vowed to find his friend. Remus was taken back to England and since then had taken the position of defence against the dark arts professor, where he still works against the laws of his kind with the support of the staff, minus Serverus.

Ron never made friends with Hermionie, and she barely escaped the troll when Mrs. Norris, who unfortunately died, scared it off. Filch decided he'd had enough of cats, and brought a parrot instead, a ghastly balding creature called Mr. Snuffles, who forever has a cold. She made friends with a few quiet Ravenclaws, but other than that became detached toward the rest of her house, and proceeded to get record breaking marks in her OWL's thanks to all of the studying she got in.

Unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore was mere moments too late to save the philosophers stone from the clutches of professor Quirrel, who's body still resides in St. Mungo's after Voldermort stole his soul to live again. Voldermort now lives in a golden palace somewhere in Europe, and his army's are slowly building. It's rumoured he also has a golden wand, but then again those could just be rumours.

Cedric Diggeroy won the tri-wizard tournament in his seventh year, and from there went onto being one of the biggest poster-boys since Gilderoy Lockhart, who was taken to St. Mungo's after a backfiring memory curse. His father, who overthrew Fudge merely a year after, couldn't have been happier.

Fred and George completed their education, not having enough money to start their business, and instead were encouraged to create traps and illusions for the order, who were building their weapons at the time. They became known as Forge, and they were one of the main creators of weapons after the potions experts and illusionists. Though, deep down, all they wanted to do was see the mischief on the faces of children when they entered their shop, and see the pranks that they could pull on the professors in their name.

Draco's father found out Serverus Snape was a spy in what would have been Harry's fifth year, and surprisingly didn't give him in- but became a spy himself. From that development the order managed to get word of most of the attacks before they happened, but they weren't able to save Arthur Weasly who was attacked by an unidentifiable snake while at work.

Because of the support of the ministry, the order of the phoenix grew rapidly, and now there is nearly one member in every household. It was nick named 'the golden soldiers' to really tick Voldermort off, and their huge numbers are the only thing that keeps morale up.

New subjects were introduced in Hogwarts to prepare its students, and along with magical archery, attack spells and an official duelling tournament, the students were slowly becoming soldiers.

Umbridge was never forced upon Hogwarts, because the moment Minister Diggeroy came into power he threw her out. She lost her home and her job, and moved to Siam to write her biography, which sold eighteen copies to be ceremoniously burnt.

And now for the life that matters- Harry Potter.

After disappearing with his newfound familiar, Turdus (who for a blackbird is now very old, at nearly five years over the usual garden bird life span), he found his own family. Learning gnomish, Goblin, Selkie, Mermaid, Troll and many others along with writing and spell work in parsletongue, not forgetting French; he became able to speak with many of the creatures he'd met.

Travelling with a heard of Griffin in the tundra of Europe for a few years, speaking with the legendary firebird of china and swimming with the loch ness monster, Harry became quickly accepted into his new world.

But it wasn't until he was 13, when he found a heard of Unicorn in Russia, saving them from a pack of Dire Wolf in what they will later call 'unimaginable circumstances', did he find he truly belonged. The great beasts looked into his soul to see something that they only ever saw in their own kind, and from then on he was known as the 'unicorn child' by many.

Having two legs for young Harry never really cut it with a heard of horses, and he found himself adapting to his new environment in many ways.

From a small boy, broken and abused, to the only human ever to understand the world in its entirety, Harry became more of a legend amongst the birds and beasts. Bowed down to by many and worshipped by some, but respected by all, Harry's fortune took a turn in the other direction.

Until he got dragged into the war, and had to fight for the side he did not belong on, wizards.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A man walked down the street almost like a ghost, drifting through that people that moved from his path before they realised they were doing it. He was strange; you noticed it on first glance, yet you couldn't place it. His long black hair was pulled back into the neatest of braids going down between his shoulder blades, and his white cape fluttered like butterflies wings behind his long strides. Dressed completely in the purest of white, without so much as a speck of dust to spoil it, with his deep, dark hair ruining the charade.

He held himself tall, even though he didn't seem that much taller than average, and seemed to tower over the people that he passed even though he didn't. His strange white clothes made it hard to guess his figure, bellowing behind him and licking at the back of his boots with every step that he took. There was not a single person on the busy muggle London Street who didn't give the young man a double take, yet none of them really saw his face. He moved too fast, too soundlessly and gracefully that he was gone before you had chance to try and see what was so strange about him, why he seemed so different.

A small blackbird that shone copper in the sunlight dipped and swooped merrily over the heads of the crowd, letting out small bursts of happy song every time he made a frightened muggle duck beneath him. The strange man smiled, though no one really saw it, and his brilliant green eyes followed every movement of the little creature while he walked without seeing.

But the man was at unease, his shoulders tense as he moved and his muscles grinding against each other instead of flowing as they usually did. He loved watching people, he'd been watching them from a distance for years, and observing what made them tick and what they thought inside. Yet he didn't feel right walking amongst them once more, he didn't feel as though he belonged with these beings, he felt out of place.

But what was making it worse was that he was nearing the entrance to the dingy pub that would lead him back to the life he had left behind.

If he doesn't feel right, then why is he doing it? You ask.

The answer begins with V and ends with T if that's any consolation.

He had lived peacefully and secretly for almost half of his life now, living at one with everything that wouldn't judge him for what he had been made out as. He'd lived in many places, travelled around the world, but no one had ever seen him- truly seen him. He had walked by and they had watched him, but they never really _saw _him.

But his family, the beings that didn't judge him and had come to accept him into their home graciously, were being threatened. His people were being enslaved, or recruited when they were in their most venerable state, or slaughtered in their hundreds.

Not to say that it hadn't been going on before then, oh yes it had. Wizards had been mistreating their magical counterparts for millennia, as with muggles and their non-magical neighbours. They were so prejudice to believe that they were above creatures that they would never come to understand that they had locked them away for amusement or slavery. The stranger would never forgive the people for what they had done, but he knew that it wasn't the fault of millions because of the handful that act on their hate.

He just had to convince himself.

But now he'd had to return, he'd had to come back in the hope of ending the sudden uplift in his people's gradual mass slaughter. He had come because only a week earlier, the man who called himself Voldermort took control of a clan of Vampires, and ordered them to slaughter the werewolves who refused to join him. It was because of this, because many of his friends had been killed, that he was returning.

The man's small smile faltered slightly as he watched the little bird dive again and flutter its wings to push back up. His bright eyes darkened a little, and his gaze became downcast as he tried to rid himself of his troublesome thoughts. He remembered seeing his friend Rajul being sucked dry, remembered being unable to save him, being unable to save another being who had died when he could have helped and didn't.

The stranger closed his beautiful emerald eyes and took a deep breath. It was not time for such thoughts.

The sky was bright but bitterly cold, the early September winds cutting into the people below and making them huddle lower beneath their clothes, their coats and scarves. Yet the young man didn't draw anything around himself, he didn't put anything over his thin attire, nor wrap a scarf around his high-necked robe. He seemed almost untouchable, as though not even the cold could get close enough to harm him, as though he were invincible.

And that thought seemed almost frightening to the people that edged away as he passed. He was frightening, but a different sort of frightening.

He was the sort of person that could become a threat in the blink of an eye, but you'll never know until it's too late.

And they were frightened of him.

But they didn't know it…

The little bird made one last swoop, chirping happily as a woman's shrill cry rang out into the cold morning before it dived up again and landed gracefully onto the strangers shoulder. The man brought up a delicate hand and absently ran it over the little bird's breast, but didn't really seem to register that it was there. He was troubled; he was troubled because he had finally reached the point of no return.

The stranger raised his green eyes to the dingy sign hanging over the muggle street, dwarfed between the large garish signs of great shops on either side. In a way he appreciated the simplicity of it, the minimal natural resources used to keep it hanging, to show the way into another world that no one would bother to even glance at. The paint peeling from a small black cauldron frothing with green gunge and bubbling merrily, the dry brick walls and cracked door. In a way it was comforting, but in another way it was not.

The small blackbird hopped closer to the strangers face and let out a long burst of song, and the young man turned to the bird and smiled until it reached his eyes. It was the first time that the muggles saw his face, and what they saw was astonishing.

He was just a child…

His brilliant green eyes were deep with wisdom, they looked youthful yet so very ancient at the same time. His high cheekbones were almost aristocratic, with a firm chiselled jaw and a long silver scar running from his eye like a tear. Another sinister mark was cut above his right eye in the shape of a lightning bolt, but it wasn't subtle and silver as the other one, but blood red as fresh as the day it had been made. His face was hard, set and determined, fearless, yet when he smiled… when he smiled his sharp cheeks rounded and his eyes lit up, his mouth curled delicately and he flashed a row of white teeth, canines slightly longer than seemed usual. But never the less, he was still a child, and if anything it only worried them further.

The stranger took one last deep breath and gently pushed open the door, slipping inside of a minimal gap before any of the passers by could peer inside.

The busy pub was unusually quiet, the morning too early and the weather too cold for many to visit. Only a few regulars and a couple of scattered people nursing warm drinks sat within the walls of the strange place, and Tom the barkeeper was absently rubbing a beer glass with his towel. Why, the stranger didn't know, when he could just use magic.

The young man made a grab for the bird as it hopped off his shoulder desperately, but was too late as it began to glide around the room, singing at the top of its little lungs. The stranger immediately fell deadly still, his green eyes searching the room as the occupants looked around for the meaning of such an irritating bird to get into their magical bar, when it was very obviously not magical. His stillness didn't attract any attention to him, even though he contrasted drastically against the wooden walls, but he knew that the entrance to Diagon Alley was on the other side of the room.

"Just _had_ to draw attention to yourself," the stranger muttered under his breath, and in return the little bird swooped hazardously at a man raising a cup of tea to his lips, sending the tea into his lap to scold him through his trousers. He groaned and put his forehead in his hand as he heard the man jumping up and swearing colourfully as the bird merely chirruped happily in return, swooping around its head mockingly.

He once more tried to glide silently to the other side of the room while everyone else was busy watching the man whacking his crotch with a newspaper in an attempt to cool it down. But his heavenly attire and regal stance stood out against the dark wood and dingy light, and even the man in question managed to notice him.

"HEY! Your damn bird nearly burnt me to death!" he called after the stranger furiously, turning pink in rage as he brushed down his trousers in an attempt to hide the huge dark patch on his groin.

The entire bar went deathly silent as the stranger hissed under his breath, his tongue curling to make the most sinister noises that they had ever heard. The man fell back heavily into his chair with wide eyes, and watched the strangers back as he slowly began to turn around.

He had been, in fact, swearing in parsletongue…

"Sorry, I'll be sure to keep better control over _it_ in the future," he said sourly as he turned to face the man entirely, drawing himself up to his full height to make himself feel a little less insecure.

But they didn't hear a word, for they were too busy staring at the lightning bolt cut into his forehead.

Harry Potter's green eyes skirted around the room quickly as his posture slowly sunk back down and he began to look a little nervous. His hair was scraped back gently with a single strand falling to frame his face, but other than that he was completely open for everyone to see, and that included his famous scar.

It wouldn't help that they all thought he was dead, and that he was going to save their arses when the time came.

He risked a fleeting glance at the door as he nervously brought a hand to the back of his head and tried to look anywhere but at the dozen or so eyes zoned onto him. Without a word he quickly spun on his heel only to disappear into the back even before they had snapped out of their shock. The little bird swooped through the crack in the door moments before it shut, and the click of the catch woke them, where upon they all began calling after him and desperately scrambling to get another look.

"I hate you," he muttered to the blackbird as it landed on his shoulder, and with a wave of his hand the arch began to quickly melt away as it sensed his urgency.

Diagon Alley was gently waking up for the new day, the shops raising their shutters and putting out their stock in the crisp morning air that wafted down from the fields not far away. Harry once more felt his muscles un-knotting in the fresh morning, and he took a deep calming breath as he felt the arch melt back behind him, separating him from the small hoard of people trying to get to catch another glimpse.

His emerald eyes watched as the little blackbird leapt off his shoulder and began soaring down the street, asking for him to follow just as he had on the day he had saved the little birds life, and the little bird had in turn given him a new one. He once more glided down the cobblestone paving, noticing the precarious positions the shops were in and the way the streets bent to strange angles. A bizarre smoke wafted from a drain beside the apocethery, and as he looked in cautiously was intrigued to see bats wings hanging from the ceiling. But the little bird chirruped up ahead and drew him out of his thoughts, and reluctantly he continued down the street.

His gaze rose to see the great stone pillars of Gringotts bank spanning up before him. The entire building seemed to be slanting slightly outward, almost as though a drunken troll had put it together. Harry's lips curled slightly into the smallest of smiles, he knew that goblins weren't one for building or decorating, but their intelligence and magic made up for it in the long run. Once more the bird fluttered into view, swooping around the large doors enticingly, and Harry rolled his forest green eyes before he began making his way up the stairs.

Bill Weasly had taken an extra morning shift to get a little more money for his family, but Bill really wasn't a morning person. His head lolled over the parchment strewn over his desk as he blinked furiously to keep himself conscious, but the cool morning sunlight was streaming through the small window and the songs of birds were just so enticing.

But that was when the excitement started…

He heard the crash of brass scales on the marble floor and his head shot up, making him blink furiously as he pushed himself up from his position and grabbed his wand blearily. Goblins never dropped those scales, they were charmed precisely to the nearest milli-ounce and the smallest misuse 'dented the magic' as they had told him before. Therefore, if the scales were down, something must be up. Bill made his wobbly legs work as he pushed himself out of his office and down the corridor into the staff entrance of the bank, and ripped open the door at the end, aiming his wand at whoever or whatever it was.

He dropped his wand…

"Err…" Harry began uneasily, glancing around at the various staff and goblins staring at him as though he were a manticore. He swallowed hard, and even Turdus sensed his unease, landing on his shoulder and nuzzling its little head against his cheek. There was a red head with long hair and a dragon tooth earring staring at him with his jaw open, a small lady on the desk at the end of the room who had just dropped her ink well, and all of the goblins that were staring at him motionless.

"_I've never visited a bank before, and I may require some assistance," _He admitted in goblin, trying to straighten himself up a little higher and lifting up his chin. Turdus puffed out his feathers and held his beak up high in what looked the closest to intimidating for a blackbird, which really wasn't all that intimidating at all.

"C-c-certainly Mr. Potter, we weren't expecting you so soon," said the head goblin, Ragnook, with wide beetle black eyes as he approached cautiously, his golden tooth shining in certain lights. "Which vault will you be visiting?" he asked, a little more collected, which was more than the rest of them had managed.

"I have more than one?" he inquired before he could think about it first. He snapped his mouth shut quickly and silently cursed himself as he tried to look intimidating again, but Ragnook was slowly gaining his nerves, and the common goblin smile was again stretched upon the creature's lips, flashing even more gold.

"You have come unprepared Mr. Potter," he drawled, and Harry noticed the other goblins shuffling from foot to foot uneasily behind their counters. Oh, but Harry was good at this- he was on familiar grounds now, no people and no foreign concepts, just a battle of wills in a contest to gain this goblins respect. Ragnook seemed a little taken aback when he began floating, and even more so when he came nose to nose with the burning green eyes of the unicorn child, the hunter and protector.

He pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, _"Now that I think about it, if Voldermort comes into power you will no doubt be fought for control over the wizard's gold, wouldn't you? Hmm?" _Harry smirked menacingly, just like the predator he had been rumoured to be. Ragnook swallowed hard, and was gently placed back onto the ground with the strange magic that had been cast upon him. Wandless, just like a goblin…

"I apologise Mr.Potter, I shall show you the way to the Potter family vault, if you will follow me." He said, giving a half bow and turning in the direction of the carts. Harry sensed the magic upon them, and gently plucked the blackbird off his shoulder and put him inside of his breast pocket.

Harry gave a half glance to the redhead as he passed; raising his eyebrow lightly as the man snapped his jaw shut and began franticly searching for his wand again. The woman who was covered in ink was now furiously writing on a piece of parchment, and already he could tell that there was something wrong. He needed to get out quickly, before anyone else was alerted.

Not long after…

"Bernadette! What the hell did you think you were doing?" Bill called over the noise of shouting from the other side of the door he had pressed himself up against. The small blonde woman looked at him out of the side of her eye as she felt someone crash into the door behind her, making her 'eep' quietly and screw her eyes up a little.

"I don't really know! I just thought- Merlin, Bill it's Harry Potter for god's sake!" she cried exasperatedly over the steady hammering on the doors that they were trying to ward closed.

"So you just thought you'd get the whole bloody bank knocked down, yeh- thanks," he shouted dryly, and she shot him a scowl before the door lurched again and she shut her eyes. Bills hair was falling out of his ponytail and his earring jingled against the silver hoop every time the door was knocked. He'd never in a million years thought that reporters would be this desperate for a story, but they had suddenly reached a whole new low in his books.

"What's going on?" Harry potter jumped from the cart before it had stopped and landed on his feet like a cat, before he came striding towards the doors. Bill gave Bernadette another scowl, which she pointedly ignored for staring at the young man coming towards them.

His white robes were flowing behind him and his face looked more frightening than they had ever seen, yet in a completely different way. It was like he was entirely wild, untamed, yet moved with the grace of water through the cool air. He looked ageless, his eyes so dark and sharp and his bold features, he emitted power even though he only came just above Bill's shoulder.

"Reporters!" Bill called back as the door gave another lurch beneath him and the goblin next to him cried out as his magical finger snapped against the spells he was trying to hold.

Reporters? Weren't they those women that carry around clipboards with men holding those flashing things- cameras?

"Why are they trying to knock down the bank?" he asked, his voice loud even though he wasn't shouting.

"_That _would be Bernadette's fault," Bill returned over the voices on the other side of the door, trying to lift his thumb to point at her but pushing it back against the door as it lurched again. She had the dignity to blush and look at her feet at Harry's cold look, before he sighed and turned back to Bill.

"I suppose coming back quietly isn't an option any more," he said, and Bill gave him a sympathetic look as he scraped his heels on the marble beneath.

"I believe your audience awaits Mr.Potter, preferably before my bank is reduced to rubble," quipped Ragnook from his knee, and Harry looked down and sighed quietly, before nodding. The goblin held his gaze for a few moments, and gave a curt nod, which Harry returned, and turned to the rest of the goblins.

"_Hold back the Humans until Mr.Potter exits the bank, then we can concentrate on locking it tight until this has blown over!" _He ordered in goblin, and the rest of the creatures jumped from their stools and came over to the door.

"Can I borrow your wand?" he asked Bill as the goblins lined up. Bill gave him a strange look in return; his wild hair and drowsy eyes wide awake as he looked upon what could possibly be the saviour of the wizarding world, asking for his wand.

In a way he supposed he was privileged, but if you looked at it a different way it was rather worrying. This young man seemed like the perfect super weapon against Voldermort, his animalistic quirks and frightening stance, yet he was asking for his wand.

"I need to make it look like I have one," he returned, wiggling his fingers to put the point across. Bills blue eyes widened and he looked back, before mutely handing over his wand, wincing as the door gave another lurch.

"_Let it go!"_ He ordered in Goblin, and as one the small creatures lifted their fingers and aimed at the door. The sounds of startled reporters echoed through the thick wood, and Harry nodded curtly at the goblins before he reached out for the handle. He paused…

"Wouldn't mind coming, would you? I need to slip this back before I go," he asked Bill, gesturing to his wand. Bill's eyes widened a little more, but Bernadette elbowed him in his side and he nodded, still in a daze. Never in his life would he thought he'd be doing this, coming out to face every reporter in England by the side of Harry Potter, who was subsequently holding his wand. Harry gave him a small smile before he ripped the doors open and stepped outside, and the flashes that followed made Bill put his arm up to shield his face as he found himself pushed through the doors by an ever-eager Bernadette, hearing them shut behind him.

The entire square was filled with people, all either screaming at him trying to put across a question or pressing the buttons on their cameras furiously in an attempt to catch their savoir. And boy did they catch something, because even if they had somehow expected Harry Potter to miraculously return, they would have never imagined him looking like that.

He was so powerful, you could tell it from the way he held himself, his sharp features and refined cheekbones with deep dark shining hair and eyelashes framing his brilliant eyes. They shone with knowledge and depth that would rival even the oldest scholars, shining brilliantly yet all seeing. His garments were pure white and skilfully made, yet it was like nothing they had ever seen before, and even standing next to the red head that looked about 6 foot, he seemed to be a giant.

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, making sure he looked as ferocious as he could without scaring the people senseless (which was a very appealing thought). He shut his eyes and found his eternal calm, delving within himself to make himself detached and emotionless, just as he needed to be. If he showed emotion for the papers, he was showing emotion to Voldermort, and emotion was weakness in the eyes of the enemy. Emotions could be used against him, his people could be slaughtered further and his love could be held against him. That was why he was not going to reveal a thing, which was why he was going to deliver one message, and one message only.

"SILENCE!" He commanded, snapping open his frightening green eyes and holding up his hand.

And silence they did, for the first time in history, someone silenced nearly 150 reporters with the mere word.

Terrifying…

Bill gave Harry a stunned look as he tried to control himself, knowing that his ears had gone red in embarrassment form being in front of the cameras, and he looked a mess anyway. You would never have guessed that he was only 16; it worried him to think what he could be like, as he grew older. He was so mysterious, there were so many questions that surrounded him and even though he seemed almost pure it was strange how shrouded in shadow he was.

For that matter, he didn't know anything about this boy. For all he knew he could be a deatheater, he could be in league with Voldermort, which would really be a kick in the arse if he were on the other side. Yet, he couldn't really bring himself to suspect him. It was almost as though he trusted him already, trusted him with his life.

"Thank you," Harry said, lowering his arm and letting his eyes skim over the faces surrounding him. He'd studied people for so long that you think he'd be used to seeing such emotion, yet he was slightly concerned as to why they were all hanging on his every word, why the only movement seemed to be from the flashing of cameras in the sea of people.

"To be honest I don't even want to speak with you, because every word I say now will go to the enemy, will go to Voldermort." A wave of whispers broke out in the crowd upon hearing the use of the dark lords name, and the man next to him gave another startled look. Harry pointedly ignored it and held up his hand again, and once more silence fell.

"I have seen the destruction that this _monster _has caused, and frankly I'm disgusted. I have watched my friends and family die by his hands, and I am watching no longer!" a cheer swept through the crowd, and he felt certain that they thought he meant his biological parents. Again he raised his hand, and once more they hushed instantly.

"I only have two words for Voldermort, and he alone will understand them," he looked out over the sea of expectant faces, and knew that they wouldn't be disappointed.

"Game on," he hissed.

If expressions could kill, all of the reporters there would be stone cold. But their silence was enough satisfaction for him, and he felt a small smile curling at his lip as he twisted Bills wand absently, just to make sure it looked like he had one. Parslemouth's had been ridiculed for millennia, and Snakes for even more, it was very rewarding to see them stuck as to what to think about it. He was their saviour, yet he had just hissed in a language that they had hated, originated to creatures that they hated. He smirked, this was just too fun.

His eyes glinted as he saw their jaws hanging open, and silently passed to Bills other side, discreetly slipping his wand into the stunned man's pocket before he could realise what he had done, and disappeared with a 'pop'…

Bill's blue eyes widened as he looked to either side of him only to find himself alone, and swallowed hard as he slowly turned back to the sea of reporters. He'd been standing next to him… he would be the next target. Bill threw himself at the bank doors, followed by a hoard of reporters, and only just made it through the entrance in time.

"Well _thank you_," Ragnook said sarcastically, sneering in a menacing goblin fashion, before spinning on his heel to gather more workers to hold the door that was once more crashing against its hinges.

"We should have just left you out there," Griphook grumbled, and stalked off in the other direction.

Harry Potter re-appeared in dense woodland and fell onto his back, breathing harshly. He'd never used wizard apparation before and it hurt, his breathing seemed almost laboured and it felt almost as though his soul was objecting to the use. He groaned and rolled over; feeling suddenly very drained, and looked up into the golden eyes of his adopted mother.

"I sort of… well- it didn't really go to plan," he mumbled, bringing himself to his knees.

The unicorn shook its magnificent head in exasperation and turned to walk in the other direction. Silently,the 17 handhorned horsepushed himself up off the undergrowth and followed after.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

**Yeh, this is a little different to the previous chapter, but I hope you like it anyway,**

**Blue XxX**

**(A/N: 11 pages!)**


	3. Friend or foe

Harry paced the clearing like a caged animal, sending passing glances up at the sky with every other chance he got. Hands behind his back and wild hair flowing, he looked like something from a dream. But his legs were tense and his walk was strained, and if he continued to move as he had been for most of the morning, he'd burn a hole in the grass.

"You're acting like them," came a slow, steady voice from the tree line.

"Am not," Harry returned, kicking at a tree root as he looked up to the sky again.

"Then you are acting like a child," the voice reprimanded, but there was no bite to his tone.

"Am-" Harry began, but cut himself off as he realised what he was doing. He sighed in defeat and paused for a few moments, looking down to scowl at the floor, before he began pacing again.

"You must be strong," came the voice again, and Harry turned sharply on his heel, sending the mud to seep between his toes before he continued in the other direction.

"It's not easy," he returned, slowing his pace slightly and raising his pleading green eyes to look right into the shadows of the trees. "I'm not used to this, I fight, I don't plot or lie or blackmail or strategise, I just go in and do it. And now- now I'm not sure this was such a good idea. I have to do it, (1) Demora's warnings promised that I'd have to, but suddenly I- I feel as though the wind is blowing in a direction I didn't fathom, and now the victory we need is only further away."

Another creature entered into the sun, letting it sparkle against his fur. His strong hands were held behind his back just as Harry's were, and he approached slowly with the rhythmic clip of his hoofs on the ground. Harry raised his gaze to look into the aged face, the wise eyes of the centaur, and once more his ageless face turned young just as when he smiled.

The centaur looked deep into the young man's eyes, before looking up to the sky above. The sun had broken the horizon not long ago, basking the canopy in pinks while they shadowed the floor beneath, but Harry could tell that he was not looking at the colours.

"Humans have keen eyes and quick hands. They delve into things that they do not understand, and although many have the love of a selkie, many more are as black as charred forest. It is times like these that you, child, need to search within yourself and adjust to the enemy and ally, for although you are as clear as water to many and yourself, there are shadows that dwell from the life you would have lived."

Harry sighed deeply and looked to the floor. Centaurs were cryptic, it was their nature and the many years that Harry had spent in their presence had made him learn what they meant. But using the traits of the people he had grown to hate, knowing that he too was one of them still, it rested heavily on his heart. But he was right; the only way to outsmart a human was to do it the human way, which meant lowering himself to the corruption that they all held towards each other.

"And I am sure that written half-truths will do nothing to the outcome," he quipped, seeing the figure of an owl against the morning light, newspaper gripped tightly in its talons. Harry nodded and raised his eyes too, anticipation rising in his gut even though he knew he shouldn't be so nervous.

He shouldn't be feeling these human emotions, he shouldn't, but he did all the same. He frowned as he caught the newspaper, watching the wild owl swoop off to roost, and sucked in a breath. Every time he felt something like this he was reminded more and more that he was human, and that thought alone made his stomach churn.

He opened his eyes, and frowned.

"They have been standing by their beliefs for centuries, child, they were never likely to accept the forked tongue." The centaur replied.

Although the copper beast couldn't read the writing, he could see the boys tongue lapping at the roof of his mouth as he had hissed. Perhaps it was an advantage, perhaps they had just wasted one secret that could have staid hidden, but what's done was done, and a Centaur didn't question what the fates had decided.

**Harry Potter- Friend or Foe? **

Harry sighed, making a mental note never to speak to someone holding a quill, or the woman named Skeeter, again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A room full of people looked towards the far wall, where an enlarged copy of the front-page article for nearly every newspaper around the world hung pasted with a sticking charm. There were obviously some variations, 'our saviour returned', 'masked deatheater', 'friend or foe', 're-appearing act', and the strangest of all from none other than the quibbler, 'Sighting of the rare Flobbernocket!'

But the picture was the same, the same image that frightened almost as much as relieved the people of the world who had been living constantly under threat for years. Harry Potter snapped open blazing eyes and silenced the crowd again, and even through the paper they could feel his words ripping through them and hushing them all. Not a hair fell out of place as he did so, and had it not been for his eyes no emotion would have shown at all.

Everyone in the room seemed terrified, with the exception of five people.

Bill Weasly, who had already seen the smile and extended his trust, looking on with red ears as he saw his own image hovering in the background as though he'd just woken up.

Albus Dumbledore, who glanced at the professors faces from the side of his eye with an unreadable expression, figuring each of them out even before turning back to the picture and scanning it with eyes that seemed more alive than in years. For the boy he'd looked for had finally returned- and with it their hope.

Serverus Snape, who seemed happy staring darkly at the image with unwavering onyx eyes, yet not even a sneer curled his lips. He seemed thoughtful, and if one looked close enough they would see that he too was a little disconcerted.

Remus Lupin, whose warm eyes were alight with renewed fire, yet his face remained impassive as he looked on thoughtfully. Like Dumbledore he too was assessing the situation in his mind, yet when he looked up to see Lily's green eyes and James's hair, even if it was a little tamer, he couldn't help but feel happiness bubbling through his veins and his inner wolf howling in pleasure.

And finally, Sirius Black, who was having trouble sitting still. The hand on his thigh from Remus to his side was the only thing keeping him in his chair and not running from the room right that moment to go singing from the top of the tower.

The little boy whose life he had ruined in being taken to prison that fateful night, the stupid things he'd done and the guardianship he had misused, he felt as though he had another chance. Sure, he was a little worried about his godson and the power he seemed to hold, but more proud than anything else. He felt the same pride he had had at the Potters wedding, feeling as though he was seeing his friend taking his first step into the big wide world, though if anything this was ten times better.

Or worse depending on how you looked at it, as Sirius's emotions tended to rule his actions.

The rest however, were as had been mentioned, relatively terrified. Minerva McGonagall's face wasn't as white as it had been earlier, but it was still unusually pale, professor Flitwick had almost fallen off his tower of cushions more than once as the shaking made him lose his balance, yet they were having trouble guessing if it was from fear of delight. Professor Trelawney was desperately trying to cling to her usual irritating dreamy aura, but was failing. Sinstra's hair was a mess as though she had been dragged out of bed and her eyes were wide, and the remaining professor's reactions were very similar.

Sirius Black's tapping broke the calm silence, and Dumbledore turned around with a small smile, and a knowing glint to his eyes.

"Merlin he looks excellent!" he cried happily, before clamping his mouth shut and continuing to tap his foot to relieve some of the pent up energy he'd acquired the moment rumours began to spread.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, "He looks more than healthy." He said calmly, and Sirius nodded and grinned happily, looking back to the image of his godson to renew the image.

"How do you suppose this has happened, Albus?" Minerva asked quietly.

"That, is a very good question my dear," he replied, eyes twinkling. Albus Dumbledore loved a puzzle, and this was by far the most challenging one he'd encountered.

How could an eight year old evade the whole world for another eight years, and return looking as though he'd seen and done things that no one would ever imagine?

What a question…

"And we could ponder over it for months, and probably draw no conclusion. I'm afraid that is a question left up to Mr. Potter to answer." It annoyed the others no end that Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying himself so much over this.

"But he's d-dangerous!" Flitwick squeaked, and Remus gripped harder on Sirius's knee as he began to growl.

"That could very well be the case, Filius." Dumbledore replied, nodding, "if his appearance in Diagon Alley is anything to go by, I find it almost certain that he's a very dangerous young man."

Sirius growled again, and Remus dug in his nails, receiving a quiet yelp in return.

"But-" he said, raising his hand, "we have been given no reason to suggest that he is a danger to us. He could be if he wanted too, if this young man found reason too I feel sure that he could be terribly powerful, but look at the picture. He doesn't scream or show any trace of anger or rage, he has control and occlumency practiced to a fine art."

Sirius couldn't hide the huge grin that lit up his face, and as Remus saw it he too found himself smiling.

"I believe that he has entered this war to help us, he has shown his allegiance to the light. Are you willing to deny our side an advantage that could possibly affect the outcome of the war?"

He was met with silence, and Sirius continued to grin.

"Are you suggesting we go hunting for him again, just to find out if all of these theories are true? Force him to join the phoenix when he has very easily, it seems, evaded us for half of his life? For all we know he could be starting his own little tirade and has no reason for helping us at all!" Snape cut, and again silence followed.

"It's true," Remus said, ignoring the look of betrayal on Sirius's face, "What have we ever done for him?"

Silence, this time tense enough to cut with a knife. Sirius subdued immediately, looking down to avert his eyes from the people around, and suddenly everyone else felt a little wave of guilt run over them.

Eight years ago the Dursley's admitted to abuse under Veritaserum, and now the memory surfaced again.

"We shall just have to wait and see, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said as he looked over them sombrely, putting his chin on his fingers and looking at the table over his half moon specials deep in thought.

"I have a class to get too," Snape snapped as the tension became too much and the clock continued to tick against them. They nodded and began silently making their way to their classrooms, knowing that they weren't going to get away from the news in their classes, where Harry Potter would no doubt be the talk of the school.

"Thank you for your information, it was very helpful," Dumbledore said kindly as he shook the redheads hand, though his eyes were dulled.

"I just wanted you to know headmaster," Bill began, trying to hide his unease, "that I trust him, I don't know why I do, I just do."

Dumbledore nodded, "As do I Bill, as do I."

…

"Yes! That _is _my brother! Please, form an orderly queue!" Ron joked to the Gryffindors as they walked to their Charms class, receiving a friendly slap around the head in return.

"Yes, how could we miss the half starved expression under a mop of red hair?" sneered Malfoy as he walked past with a small group of Slytherins, although it was immediately apparent that he was much more subdued than usual. Ron tried to launch himself at the blonde, whose immaculate hair and harsh grey eyes had half of the school on their knees, but was pulled back.

Hermionie Granger walked a good 10 paces behind, catching the conversation as it echoed loudly over the otherwise hushed chatter of the student body. She clutched her books to her chest and walked with her head down to make sure it didn't look like she had been listening, but no one would have noticed her anyway.

After Ron had shown his obvious dislike for her in his first year, the ideas had become widely accepted in the Gryffindor common room, and they had ridiculed her whenever she showed her keen interest in class. But determined, she continued to raise her hand at every opportunity she received, knowing that it would do better for her in the long run. Now she despised the popular redhead, the Gryffindor captain with more friends than she had ever had without even trying, but she tried to convert it into pity towards his obnoxious behaviour.

But for the entire morning she had been painstakingly reading her classmates and fellow students to see their reactions, trying to predict what sort of views were on the outside world through the reactions of the next generation. So far the Ravenclaws were beginning to go through their theories, putting the evidence, or lack thereof, together and trying to find a logical explanation. Hermionie herself had helped a little, but once Luna got going on that he was in fact a rare breed of flobbernocket, she had given up.

The Hufflepuffs were becoming very nervous, a little jumpy and almost frightened whenever anyone mentioned his name. But the conversations that they had had on him were quiet and in Hermionies view, quite good ideas. They had remembered the account of abuse that had been reported back then, and had said that he, in a way, had reason to be angry if in fact he was. But they had said that they would stand by his side if he was truly for the light, and not if he wasn't.

The Slytherins were understandably nervous, almost as much as the Hufflepuffs, if possible. They were a little jumpy, and were resorting to hiding everything behind a sneer or some smart-arse comment on how he looked like a ponse with long hair. But most of them were soon-to-be deatheaters, and seeing someone with such power on the other side was making them uneasy. Hermionie secretly wondered if it would in fact make any of them re-consider joining, but she knew that it was unlikely.

And the Gryffindors, they were being so obnoxious that she felt ashamed to be part of the house. They were beaming and yelling over to the Slytherins that Potter was going to 'kick you-know-who's bloody arse' as Ron had so graciously put it.

Honestly, he acts all macho saying something like that and yet he still couldn't call the monster by his name, pathetic.

None of them seemed to wonder if maybe there were other intentions, no one bothered to wonder where he had been for the past five years of the war, or why he had come back. They didn't even want to know how he had got so powerful, or even if he was truly for the light, and not just against Voldermort, or even a spy or some trick to get everyone's trust and lure them into one of the dark side's trap.

There were only a few exceptions, Neville, whom Hermionie liked dearly, he was sweet and was an excellent herbologist. Dean Thomas, who still at least had a little of her respect, the artistic young boy had tried to point out that there might be things that the rest weren't seeing, but once they told him to shut up he didn't dare say any more. Parvati and Lavender went on about 'his cards spelling disaster and shadow' but she knew that they were just trying to sound knowledgeable by challenging the rest. Ginny Weasly had become annoyed by her brothers rants, and had dared to shout at him to shut up in which she told him to 'stop being such a moron and look at the bloody facts'.

Hermionie liked Ginny, but they didn't really talk much, she was popular…

She sighed and swept her bushy hair behind her ear, lifting her head back up in the knowledge that she most probably had all of the information she was going to get for a while. She would have to go into the library and look up means of making yourself untraceable, even if it was highly unlikely their library would have any spells that Dumbledore hadn't thought of when he was searching for Harry for all of those years. She'd try and look into his history too if she could, it wasn't as though she had anything better to do.

Hermionie put her bag neatly under the desk and pulled out her quill and ink ready to take fresh notes, and looked up at the professor patiently. Professor Flitwick, too, seemed a little shaken by the news. His stack of books was shuddering slightly beneath him, and he was glancing around the room and fidgeting with his hat.

Perhaps the professors knew something they didn't, it wouldn't surprise her. Perhaps if she were lucky she'd be able to find out a little about their opinions if she kept her eyes open.

Hermionie had decided to reserve her opinion for when she had got all of the facts, until then she was leaving herself open to the views of others.

"N-n-now today class-"

Yes, the teachers definitely knew something they didn't… and she was determined to find out what. Perhaps it had something to do with that idiots brother, the one who was in the photos, it wouldn't be a shock as he was in the order himself. By the way he was acting in the photos she didn't think that he would be as bad as his younger brother, so if she were to ask nicely he would probably be more obliging than Ron. Not that she was going to ask mind, Hermionie had learnt that keeping quiet on occasions was the best policy, and now that she had found the question, she was going to raise to the challenge.

…

The day had drawn on, and from the sun low in the morning, basking the forest in the cool sunlight, it was now to the west while casting the sky in a bloody red. Red sky at night, phoenix delight- meaning that tomorrow would no doubt be a good day for the creatures that dwelled in the forest below.

The clearing was calm, shadowed between the trees with a shallow wind that bit into the creatures beneath. A meeting was being held in the near darkness, yet no fire had been lit. They had no need for their trained eyesight, no need to use man's weapon and something that could destroy their forest.

Firenze had come to escort Harry Potter into the forbidden forest, where his old herd had agreed to keep watch for him even though he most probably wouldn't need it. The palomino had known of the legend of the unicorn child since it had began, and along with most magical creatures knew who the boy's identity was. It had been a strain on his heart not to tell the headmaster for all of the years that he had been searching, but he would not only be betraying the child's trust, but every magical being that had kept his secret also.

Harry and his herd had decided that it would be for the best if he moved into the forest of Hogwarts, where he could keep a closer watch over the wizard community and their second biggest threat (not including the media), Dumbledore. Harry had been informed that although the man was a very intelligent human, and had been kind enough to have been bonded with by a phoenix, he did have a history of using whatever he had at his disposal to get what he wanted. It didn't help that he hadn't stood in at all while Voldermort had been savaging much of the magical creature population in hopes of strengthening his army's.

The thought had already arisen that perhaps Harry should join the magical school himself, because they were aware of his complete lack of useable human magic. He could just about handle apparation and a few more complex spells, but the simple ones, very mundane tasks, were completely lost on him. It hurt them to watch him even try, because he was as stubborn as a hippogriff and never gave up easily, but for some reason the spells seemed to pull at his core, and it distressed his family no end.

Unicorn souls were very precious, and because none of them had ever attempted to wield human magic they had never seen the affects that casting it would have on a being with two souls. It was worrying to look at the affects it had on Harry, who would become quickly exhausted and suffered from some sort of emotional pain afterward that seemed to draw on actual physical injury once drawn on for too long.

But the thought had been discarded for reasons of Harry's safety, because if he remained invisible to the wizarding and muggle world, they wouldn't be able to harm him. Where as if they knew he was in the castle, no matter how much protection it held, they would still know where he was and he would be put in a venerable position. He would just have to keep a close eye out, and read the paper every time it was delivered in the morning, and listen to Firenz's reports when he came.

Turdus, the little blackbird, swooped and ducked over the heads of the unicorns, and Harry watched sadly as his mothers newest foal bounced on its hind legs to try and catch the bird as it passed. He turned his horned head to the side to see his mother looking at him with sadness in her golden eyes, and once more he had to look away as the pain grew too much. He'd barely left his herd in three years, and now he was moving to a forest hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles away without any of them.

Of course he'd visit, he'd have to anyway, he knew he'd desperately need to speak with Sabbath, because the Centaurs advise, however strange, was always the best.

"We must catch the magic before the sun sets," Fireze said as he walked up to his side, and Harry nodded sadly. He'd never liked goodbyes, and this one would be especially painful.

He turned and walked slowly towards the small group of his herd that had come to see him off, and let his brilliant green eyes sweep over them as he tried to memorise them for when he left. His mother was in the lead, in front of her mate, the head stallion who stood even taller than Harry himself, at nearly 19 hands.

He lowered his head sadly as he approached his mothers side, and she walked further foreword and slipped her head around his neck into a unicorn hug, which he returned. He sighed against her and she nipped his mane affectionately, before he shook her teeth away lightly.

Had he been able to speak in his form, he would have promised to visit whenever he could, and most importantly, promise to return when it was all over. But unicorns were unique in that they didn't speak as other animals did; they spoke with their souls. And although he didn't say the words, he knew his mother had understood as her grip around his neck tightened before she slipped off and back to her mate's side.

Harry lowered his head in respect to the stallion, which bowed back, and let out a short unicorn 'neigh' to the few others and the newest foals that had come to say goodbye. The little foal that had been chasing his bird reared and let out a happy noise before it came hurtling through his legs and behind its mother, and he inwardly smiled, before turning away.

"My herd will take care of him," the palomino promised, and they nodded their understanding before he turned to follow the unicorn child towards the hole in the magic that would lead them to the forbidden forest of Hogwarts.

Animals didn't appirate or dissapirate; they used something that wizards hadn't come up with yet. They were called vanishing points, and they were natural magical paths that were very strong near magical beings, and one could be found in almost every forest in the world. The creatures used it as a network to other vanishing points, and once you step through the magical shift you appear somewhere completely different.

The two beings broke the clearing and into the depths of the forest, and the blood red light disappeared beneath the blanket of trees overhead.

"I must tell you something, a few things, before we arrive," Firenze said carefully as they walked further towards their destination. Harry turned his head to the side slightly and looked at his profile, before nodding for him to continue.

"This is not mine to tell, but I doubt you will hear word of it from anyone else until it's too late for warning."

Harry had been intrigued from the moment he had seen the centaur, because he acted so differently from all of the others he had encountered. He didn't talk in riddles and although he was still interested with the planets, as with every Centaur, it seemed almost as though he had drawn himself from his beliefs of them to move onto different ways. He supposed it was because he still taught an extra divination class at the school, but he sensed that it was something deeper than that. He was almost the misfit of his species, leaving his home and beliefs to work along side humans, but in a way Harry respected that. But right now he wasn't making any sense.

"It is not only the headmaster you should be worrying about. There are others within the castle from your old life, and you need to know about them before you venture too close to them."

Firenze paused and looked up to the sky, although it was hidden, and Harry realised that he may not be as human as everyone had made him out to be. But his curiosity had been sparked, and he was feeling apprehensive of the information about to be handed to him.

"Do you know much about your parents?" He asked, looking at Harry as they walked through the trees. Harry shook his head; it was not a topic he readily discussed, nor one he particularly enjoyed talking about.

"I do not know much, but I found out a little." He began. "Your mother was training to be a healer, and your father worked with the ministry as an auror, which is almost like the ministry's army. They were good people, the both of them, but as with human tradition they legally left you to be looked after by one of their friends should anything happen to them."

"When they died, betrayed I believe by one of their friends, another friend went after the traitor and tried to kill him."

Harry nodded in understanding; he could see the logic in that.

"But the plan didn't work, and the traitor blew up the muggle street with dark magic and faked his own death, before going into hiding."

At this point, Harry was riveted. He'd never expected the events of his past life to be so interesting.

"Because the friend who had been there, Sirius Black, was stunned by the act, he didn't try to run or show his innocence and he was arrested by the ministry. He spent 10 years in Azkaban before the traitor was finally caught."

Harry shuddered, he'd encountered Dementors before and it was most definitely an experience he'd never forget. 10 years around them would most definitely send someone insane.

"But he didn't go mad," the centaur quipped as though he could read his thoughts, "his happiness left him but the thought of revenge kept his sanity. And when he was released and pardoned, he wasn't a babbling fool as they all thought he would be." Firenze turned to look at him, and Harry stopped walking.

"Sirius Black is your godfather, the person who was supposed to take care of you if your parents died, and now he resides in the castle teaching as a professor."

Harry's horsy eyes widened, and without a sound he returned to his normal form.

"My godfather is in the school?" he asked quietly. His face was still impassive, the intimidating way he held himself and the magical waves that flowed from him hit the centaur, who had to take a step back. But his eyes were bright and alive, as though something had been missing all of this time, yet they were also icy with the pain of not being taken by this man instead of having to suffer with his blood family. His wild hair was waved as it normally was, hanging around the shoulders of the white robes he wore out of his form, and he looked out blankly past his companion.

The centaur nodded.

"But he never did…" Harry muttered more to himself, and the centaur's eyes softened as he looked upon the young man. He'd heard of the pain he'd gone through in his relatives care all of those years ago, and finding that you still had someone in your life must be a shock on someone who had thought he'd had no one for so long.

"But that is not it." Firenze said sadly, walking slowly beside the boy who still remained in his true form.

Harry laughed dryly, "Not it?" he asked although he hadn't intended it to be answered, and the centaur frowned.

"Your father, Sirius Black, the traitor and Remus Lupin were a pack at their school, they did everything together and were as close as brothers."

"I've heard of Lupin," Harry muttered, glancing at the centaur who nodded.

"Most creatures have."

"He's the werewolf that refuses to accept his form." He mused, and Firenze nodded again.

"It pains me to watch how little he has accepted it, but that is not the point." He shook his blonde hair and looked forward again, "when he was younger, a young untamed wolf in the school, he transformed in a secret place by himself before the potions that retained the human side were created. He told no one in shame, because of the ridicule that humans had had towards werewolves in the past, and he remained alone on the full moon."

Harry winced, werewolves were never meant to be without their pack, he would have most likely ripped himself apart.

The other nodded, he knew too, "but your father and Black figured it out, and accepted him when no other wizards ever had besides Dumbledore. And in secret they tapped into their magical souls and drew them out. Your father was a great stag, Black a huge black dog, and the traitor a rat."

"Fitting," Harry muttered, and Firenze smiled sadly.

"And Lupin found his pack, and they spent full moons together and became even closer because they had bonded themselves with the wolf."

Harry nodded, but was feeling uneasy. His whole life he had been told that wizards were bad, by the Dursley's and the beasts he roamed with, and the newest information that perhaps not all were as prejudice towards their kind was a shock to him. But he didn't want to give up what he had believed for so long, and now he was uneasy.

"After you came to the forests, Lupin left England and travelled the world, unable to earn wizard gold because of what he was. And Black vowed to find him when he was released, and he did, and since then Black has been Lupin's mate."

"What's this got to do with me?" Harry asked wearily.

Firenze sighed, "Lupin also teaches at the school."

Harry shut his eyes and took a deep breath. That was not what he had expected. Now he would have to avoid the people who would want to find him the most, and that included resisting the temptation to find them himself. Lupin's wolf side would no doubt be hunting, and because of Black's dog form he too would be more in touch with his animal than many, joining his mate in the search.

"We are here," Firenze said, and they stopped between two huge oak trees in the near darkness. The magic that radiated from his spot was from the paths joining and crossing with each other, connecting with the other forests.

Harry watched the magic for a few moments, feeling it touch his skin in the darkness. The shallow breeze that ran through the trees played with his long, midnight hair, and his white robes flowed like water in the wind. When in thought the boy once more seemed ageless, his rugged form from the forests of the world and the terrors of his life hiding his age. His deep green eyes rested blankly on the vanishing point as he held his hands behind him, the little blackbird on his shoulder stayed quiet and still as it only ever did for its master.

"You can still turn back," Firenze said after a while, looking upon the young man thoughtfully. Never had a human been so like the creatures of the forest, and never had a centaur been so like the human he half was. Contrasting opposites, yet strangely the same, joined by their common cause in that they both held the human emotions within them, which could both be help and hindrance to their lives.

Harry shook his head, turning into his form silently. His midnight black mane flowed as he declined, before he silently stepped through the point to vanish out of the forest and away from his family. Firenze sighed and followed.

….

Demora was a centaur who predicted the prophecy, meaning that now they know that he has to kill Voldermort whether he likes it or not. Poor lad…

Anyway, thanks for reading that, I must say I'm proud of this chapter. Thanks to all of those who reviewed, because every review I get makes writing this worthwhile. (11 pages again!)

Hint hint

Keep reading, I'll keep writing, and don't forget to review!

(Tell me if you see any mistakes, I'll try and change them as best I can. If anyone wants to beta this story, tell me, I'd appreciate the help.)

Review!


	4. Suds

Quick update, woo! Thanks to the reviewers, I hope you like the chapter as much as you liked the rest.

Blue XxX

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Harry gently plucked the soft pink flowers of the Sud Bush, carefully avoiding the inch long spines that lined the stems beneath the delicate petals. The sweet nectar was already bubbling beneath the petals that were closed in the darkness, making them bulge and leak the white foam that had formed beneath. Rain was running off the tips of his long hair and sticking to his torso, and the water ran down his bare skin in the darkness. He ignored the biting cold that would make most people shudder, and continued the pain staking task of collecting the correct ingredients for a good wash.

The Sud Bush grew near water, whether rivers, lakes, oceans or the tiniest of streams. It depended on the water for its survival, because whenever it rained in the day or the air became moist they would open up and release the sweet smelling foam to all of the pollinating insects that passed, although it didn't open at night. Once the insects had collected their fertile pollen or dispatched others, the foam would fall into the water and their seed would drift down the river to rest on the banks further up. Because they were magical plants they didn't need to make fruit and it took mere minutes to create a seed, which was why they were widely used in birthing potions.

And soap, as it happens.

The sweet smell of the foam was the perfect wild soap substitute, and the reason for the thorns was so that animals wouldn't rub themselves against the bush for the smell to be transferred to their fur or feathers. Of course, most animals didn't have opposable thumbs, like Harry had, and so the bush wasn't prepared for such an occurrence.

Harry plucked the last full flower and placed it carefully on top of the small pile in his left hand. The white, silky foam was collecting between his fingers as it leaked in the heavy rain and the nectar had somehow managed to find its way down his torso and pooling in his belly button, before sinking lower and tickling him pleasantly. The flowers looked more like pods when they were closed in the darkness, their soft pink underside protecting the vibrant colour on the other side, the brilliant yellow stamen and rich purple petals. He rested his other hand on top gently and turned silently to enter the middle of the clearing, where the canopy above didn't deflect the rain and the foam would be more plentiful.

In his forest at home they had a babbling brook and a small waterfall, which was much better for washing under than the unpleasant British fall. Of course, there was the tiniest of streams that ran passed the roots of the Sud bushes, winding through the forest and disappearing underground occasionally, but he could hardly wash in that. There was also the lake, which he would very much like to go swimming in, had it not been so open and lying in the wake of the huge castle beyond.

But the rain was surprisingly refreshing in the cool night air, the droplets plump and rhythmic, almost soothing as they hammered on his shoulders. He missed his home already, although it had only been a week at most, but in a way he also felt at peace with this new forest.

At first he hadn't felt safe beneath the trees that seemed so much more sinister than the thick pines and woodland he was used to, but now that it was growing on him, and had come to appreciate the way the gnarled trunks twisted and made faces at him.

Across to the far edge of the clearing the moondrops glowed pleasantly, basking his face in a warm blue glow as he began to gently massage the pods over his skin under the steady rainfall. Moondrops only grew around werewolves and only bloomed at night, but their glow was almost like the forests own natural lighting, and Harry found it pleasant as he had grown used to living by only the occasional spark of fairies or fireflies as they passed.

He crushed three of the pods against his chest and collected the white foam as it trickled down his stomach in a cupped hand, before moving it up to his hair and gently running it along the length as he tipped his head up and shut his eyes against the rain.

There was a lot to this new forest, and although he had been wondering through it all week he knew that he had yet to cover it all. He had wondered near a huge maze of tree roots unlike he had ever seen before earlier in the week, winding like snakes and opening different sized holes into another part of woodland beyond. He had approached cautiously, as all inquisitive animals did, but had rightly decided that he had best stay away when he saw three huge legs disappearing through one of the openings. It must have been an enormous nest, and it was surprising how many different beasts he had yet to encounter that resided in this one forest alone.

Harry breathed out as the rain began to evade his mouth, and the water sprayed as though from a dolphins blowhole to be taken back into the rainfall. He ran his hands along his hair and washed away the sweet smelling substance, before picking up another pod to go over his body again.

He had always loved the smell that the flowers made; he remembered that it was one of the first things he had seen when he had run away from the Dursley's. It was strange to think that it had been so long ago now, but he supposed the longer he'd been away from there the better.

It was a miracle he had survived once he had disappeared after his familiar, who was sitting puffed up in a makeshift nest a few hundred yards away, as he had been only a child. It had been Turdus that had lead him to one of the vanishing points, only to bring him out to a jungle instead of a wood. From there the little bird had shown him which foods to eat and which not too, and Harry had kept warm and alive in the fine conditions where he remained for many months before they found another portal and decided that they would explore it. And all because of his cousin and that stupid BB gun, oh how Harry hated weapons. Guns and wands, he hated them but knew that he was powerless to prevent the corruption they caused.

And to think, he was only a few miles away from a whole castle full of people, each one in possession of a potential weapon. Hell, he was officially in a war against them, with them, allied and opposing as he tried to end the suffering Voldermort was raising upon the beings he loved. He supposed it was strange that he didn't feel as though he was in war, because animals had been at war for centuries, it was just that now it was becoming intolerable.

But were all wizards really the same?

That was the question that had been plaguing his every waking thought since Firenze had told him of his father's old pack before they had arrived. It was common knowledge that their previous people abandoned werewolves once they were bitten, that humans wouldn't seem to come to terms with it. There were very few cases in which even the family remained with the subject once they had been cursed, and he had never met a werewolf that had remained true and loyal to the wizarding world, let alone liking it.

But to learn that children had not only accepted it, but had made every effort to remain with their friend, was something that he had never thought he would hear. Figuring out your inner beast was painstaking work alone, and that was without managing to turn into it. Animagnus's in the old days only became them by accident when they were in dire need of it, and once the potions that forced the creature to surface had been made, it was still extremely difficult, if not virtually impossible, to become one.

He had tried not to give his parents any thought after he'd disappeared, because with his mistrust and hatred towards the Dursley's he didn't believe what they had said any more, yet he couldn't bring himself to think that anyone related to them could have any shred of kindness left. Of course, he was contradicting himself a little there, being their relation, but now that he thought about it he was troubled.

Could his parents truly have been good people? Were they kind and loving like the family he had now?

Were those faces he remembered real? Were the two men he had once thought a dream the two men that were inside that very castle, waiting for him to show himself?

Had he been wrong all of these years?

Harry shook his head as the rain began to die down and the moon flashed beneath the thinning clouds. Now that he didn't have the soft suds to warm his skin against the biting cold, he realised how venerable his bare flesh was to the exposed night air. He wrung his hair at the bottom for good measure and flipped over foreword, so that the wet locks trickled before his face as he shook his head vigorously. Flipping his head back up his hair fell back thickly over his shoulders, bouncing even though it was still wet, and he made his way into the trees to dress and take shelter for the rest of the night.

…

Grimmauld Place was filled to bursting once more, the kitchen so packed that it was almost hard to breathe for the many 'close' order members that had gathered beneath its hidden walls. Over the years, with Sirius's permission, the house had been enlarged and enlarged over and over again, yet it always managed to be too small. Outside the rain hammered against the windows and the wind whispered through the cracks in the floor or the ceiling, but inside nothing could he heard over the excited chatter that was ringing through the house.

Dumbledore raised his wand to his throat and muttered the sonorous charm under his breath, before nodding his thanks as Snape helped him up onto the small platform at the front.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the meeting has now begun, is being recorded and documented, if you could please take a seat." He said, voice breaking everyone else's conversation as they began shuffling to get a seat before they ran out and had to stand- again. He waited patiently until everyone had found somewhere to either sit or stand, and as the shuffling and muttering died to silence he looked out and smiled.

Dumbledore nodded to his right, and Serverus Snape and Lucius Malfoy approached the podium as the headmaster went and took a seat to the back next to the other more central members. Lucius's cane tapped on the wooden floor with every other step, held with a black-gloved hand, holding his head up high arrogantly as he seemed to look down upon everyone else. Snape appeared to glide behind him as his feet were hidden beneath long black, flowing robes, and his dark eyes were harsh and cold towards everyone.

A small smile, almost a smirk, graced the aristocrats lips as he looked out dramatically at everyone else, before gently clearing his throat in a manor that made everyone suspect that he hadn't needed to clear it at all.

"The dark lord's searches have drawn a complete blank. He has several trained assassins and expert trackers trying to follow his magical signature as we speak, as they have been doing from the moment the first paper was published last week."

Excited murmurs grew amongst the crowd as they muttered franticly to their neighbours. If there were trackers _and _assassins after the boy it would only be a matter of time before he was found and killed. But the question still remained as to how he had disappeared in the first place, because even before he had shown up, both sides had been looking for him.

Lucius held up a hand delicately, and gradually the voices subsided to silence once more. He took a half step backwards as Snape stepped before the crowd with a completely detached expression.

"He-who-must-not-be-named," he began, deciding not to call him 'lord' for good measure, "Has collected traces of the magical currents from the muggles home in Surrey after the wards faded through misuse."

The murmurs grew louder but with Snape's cold glare they were hushed almost instantly.

"O'Leary and Riley were sent on Monday morning disguised as salesmen, from there they put the muggles under imperious and asked them as many questions as they needed. They found out where the boy slept-" with this Snape's eyes seemed to grow distant for a moment, before the emotion once more banished. Most would have missed the sudden flicker that crossed his face, but those that knew him close enough knew that he was inwardly disgusted at the mistreatment of the child, even though he'd never admit it.

"-What state of health he had been in, what magical skills he had shown and how, what diet he had been having-" again his eyes grew distant for a moment, his features hardened, "-who he had interacted with, where he went when not in the house, what he liked and didn't like, all of the questions that might lead to where he would end up."

He paused, most likely for dramatic effect.

"They gathered his magical signature from the residue in the house and through the questions asked and history of his magic, they processed which types of magic he would have been strongest with and what level his magic had been on when he had been living there."

He turned and glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded mutely, before turning back to the rest of the people, and for a moment he seemed to contemplate telling them, almost as though they weren't good enough.

"They discovered that at eight years old Harry Potter had a magical level of over eight hundred, almost two hundred above the most powerful auror under ministry control."

Murmur grew to cries of outrage and shock as the volume raised and people began to stand from their seats to exclaim just how impossible that was.

Eight years old and more powerful than any auror… Harry Potter had just become even more dangerous than they thought.

From the corner of the room Dumbledore brought himself to his feet silently, and sent a large explosion much like the bang of a gun from the end of his wand, and almost every head in the room snapped around to look at him.

"Please, I know this is hard to believe but you must listen." He insisted calmly with his exaggerated volume.

A few more cries of defiance shook through the room, but the second time he raised his wand the explosion was almost twice as powerful, and more than one person's ear drums popped under the pressure. Reluctantly the audience sat back down in their seats, although by no means as silenced as they had been previously. Snape gave Dumbledore a curt nod in return, and the headmaster smiled softly as he sat back down, and Snape turned to the order once more.

"Fortunately he has had no luck so far, and his signature lead them to a small forest not far from the house before it disappeared entirely. It could have been crossed with other's since then, magical owls and small mammals over time, but from there the trail lead to a completely dead end."

By now everyone was riveted, and not a single person dared to break the silence and interrupt the explanation. Snape nodded sharply and spun on his heel to sit back down next to Lucius, and crossed his arms as he looked out darkly from the shadows left by the fire.

From the other side of the small stage, Dumbledore smiled encouragingly as Bill Weasly raised uncertainly from his seat, ears burning in embarrassment as he looked down at his shoes. Silently he made his way up to the front, refusing to look up, until he reached centre stage and raised himself upright, looking determined even though he was blushing profusely.

"When I encountered Harry in the bank, he showed absolutely no hostility towards me or any other human in the vicinity. Ragnook, the head goblin at Gringotts, began speaking to him but I didn't understand what they said, as they were talking in goblin."

A few people gasped and whispers broke out, but thankfully for Bill they died down quickly to be replaced by expectant faces. Bill put his finger in his collar and tugged at the side, suddenly feeling a little warm and claustrophobic.

"Ragnook said, 'you have come unprepared, Mr. Potter,'" he paused, looking embarrassed at replaying goblin conversation, "And Harry lifted him off the floor without a wand, nor even waving his hand to show indication of casting the spell."

The whispers grew to murmurs, and within moments conversation was being held between everyone in the audience. Bill sent a worried glance at the headmaster, who once more set off an explosion from the end of his wand, and the crowd hushed to give Bill room to speak.

"And he said something else in Goblin, which seemed to scare Ragnook, and put him back on the ground gently, still without any hostility."

"Ragnook then- well, he bowed and apologised."

The audience was right to start up again, as it was well known that Goblins disliked all humans and treated them with as little respect as they could possibly get away with. They remained with wizards for the gold that they valued so highly, and they had never thought they would hear word of a goblin bowing _and _apologising to one. The headmaster let them talk as he sat silently, and Bill began loosening his tie, but as the minutes passed the crowd died down again, and once more Bill was able to speak.

"Then Bernadette-" at the back of the room the small blonde woman hid her head in her hands, "- flooed a letter explaining the situation to the newspapers, and the media arrived within minutes."

A few people nodded in understanding, and others shot dark looks at the blushing woman trying to hide herself in the crowd. Bill shot her an apologetic smile and she scowled in return, before ducking behind someone to hide from the looks she was getting.

"We held them from the bank, Bernadette, the goblin staff that had been above ground in the foyer, and I. A few minutes later when the doors were beginning to weaken Harry arrived back from his vault, we still don't know what he took from it, and asked what was happening."

"I informed him of the situation and he said 'I suppose coming back quietly isn't an option any more.'"

A few more people murmured or nodded, a few rolled their eyes.

"And then he ordered the Goblins in their language, and Ragnook took control and they pushed back the reporters through the doors to clear a space for him to leave."

Bill began tugging at his earring nervously, receiving a dark look from his mother which he pointedly ignored.

"And he asked me if he could borrow my wand."

Most of them had already heard this through the chain of information that passed through the order, but those that hadn't gasped or shouted aghast at the proposition. Bill waited a few moments for them to calm down, nearly tugging his ear off in the process, before they were silent again.

"And he told me that it needed to look like he had one for the newspapers. It was like he already knew he had the advantage and wanted V-V-V-you-know-who," he took a breath, "to think that he was wand bound like the rest of us."

Some people nodded and muttered, but otherwise they continued to listen intently.

"And so he asked me to follow so that he could give it back to me before he left, and he went outside. I followed-" he sent a dark look at Bernadette, who had been the one to push him, "And you've all seen what happened in the papers."

Some people nodded, others muttered a dull yes.

"And we've been studying it since it was printed, and we had to slow it almost 100 times over to catch how he slipped it back into my pocket." He finished, bringing his wand out from the holster in his sleeve for proof.

The talking started again, and Bill breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he wasn't needed anymore, and promptly flopped back into his seat not bothering to hide it. Dumbledore rose swiftly from his seat and made his way up onto the stage again, and the order of the phoenix quietened to listen.

"Since then there have been no new sightings of Harry, but the papers have been receiving more and more letters claiming that he had been seen before. After the pictures were published over 5,000 letters had been received by the prophet claiming that he had been sighted in and around Britain, Brazil, Russia, Germany, France, Belgium, China and Egypt."

The volume rose once more. For how could a child reach so many places all over the world when he had never been taught to appirate, create a port key or any other magical means of travel? Without even leaving the town of Surrey since he had been old enough to walk? The more they learned about him the more questions were raised, and it was beginning to become disconcerting how they could find absolutely no plausible explanations.

But all the while Dumbledore's eyes continued to sparkle, as the puzzle continued.

…

In a small, crooked bar somewhere south of Moscow two unlikely companions sat in a shadowed corner, not bothering to hush their booming voices. The first, a Russian by the name of Kurt Schirov, was a meaty man with a marred face from years of fighting and thick fur robes that hung from his huge shoulders. He was a tracker, one of the best, and had been hired by Voldermort for a lot of money to track down a 16 year old. You'd think that tracking one 16 year old would be a piece of cake, wouldn't you? That's that Kurt thought too, but apparently he had been wrong.

"There is nothing here!" he roared loudly in Russian, slamming his shovel sized fist against the table making their huge metal beer mugs rattle, making the bitter browning liquid slosh over the sides.

The other man, a German, didn't understand what he had said but he got the basic idea from the anger shining in the other mans eyes. His name was Serge Von Schreiber, and he was one of the best hit men North of the equator. He, too, had been promised the other half of a rather large sum of money for the capture or elimination of the child, but he wasn't losing his temper as his partner was.

He had a Leith frame, the opposite of the Russian assisting him, with a large wide rimmed hat worn over a protective balaclava against the cold outside. His robes were thinner and much more expensive than the other mans, but he wore thick Dragon skin over his chest and lower arms, along with a pair of leather gloves. He was sharpening a knife taken from his boot with one of the thick fish knives he had haggled from the barkeeper for a while, and was watching the other man beneath the shadows of his hat with keen eyes.

"I say we ve take de money and abandon dis!" he roared with a thick accent in the only language the two both spoke, and the German's eyes narrowed beneath the shadows and the rhythmic pattern by which he sharpened his knife slowed.

"You give up too easily," he returned with an icy tone, and the other man glowered at him from across the bench. Although the Russian must have been at least twice the size of the other man, he had heard the reputation of Von Schreiber and to be honest it was frightening. He may have the brawl but this man was a killer, where as he merely tracked down the appointed target.

Their employer, Voldermort, had paired each hitman with a tracker in the hope that they would find something sooner. And so Schirov and Von Schreiber had been placed together, and were seen by the eyes of many as two of the most dangerous men in Europe, each in their own right. This was why Schirov wanted to abandon the mission, because of the expectation held for each of them their fall would be greater if they returned empty handed.

"Ve av tried everything! Iz trail leads to dead ends and vinds us in circles! Ve followed Iz trail from zat cursed house a veek ago, and it simply disappeared! Vanished! Gone!" He cried angrily, making the barmaid scuttle off in the other direction while Von Schreiber continued to look at him under the rim of his hat calmly.

"So vat do we do? Ve go on a damned goose chase around de vorld after de only clues ve av, vich are some stupid letters fanatics wrote to zat damned paper!" He roared, and brought his full mug to his lips, draining it in moments.

"Vodka!" he called in Russian over his shoulder, and the barmaid nodded furiously before disappearing again, leaving in the middle of taking another order.

"And because of all of de vizards dat live zere anyway, Iz magical zigneture as been so overridden by ozers dat we can barely find a trace!" he ripped the shot out of the woman's hand as she neared and downed it, before thrusting it back to her and grunting for another one.

Before anyone could guess what was happening, Serge Von Schreiber had leant over the table and rammed his knife into the thick wood, making the blade disappear two inches into the grain. Kurt Schirov looked down at his hand with a surprisingly pale face, and tried to calm his erratic heart rate upon seeing the blade slotted snugly between his fingers millimetres away from his flesh on either side. He swallowed thickly and gently removed his hand, snatching it back to himself to look it over, and Serge ripped the knife back out of the wood and slotted it in the heel of his boot.

"You du your job und I'll du mine! Ai never- und Ich mean _never _give oop on a job, and ai am not going to start jost because you are too insolent to find a child!" He hissed, and the Russian glared weakly back in return but safely decided not to return another scathing comment.

"Come! Ve are leaving, und ve are going to find sometink before de end of de day, or else ve do not sleep!" He barked, raising from his seat and striding out of the bar with long legs, making the snow blow through the door as he opened it and left. Kurt downed the shot of Vodka that had just been placed beside him and grunted as he left a small bag of coins on the table and followed after, the floorboards echoing with every step he took.

…

Back at Hogwarts again, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sat curled up before the fire as it crackled merrily against the sound of rain hitting the windows. They were in Remus's quarters, as Sirius rarely slept in his own claiming that 'it's too near the dungeons and I get a draft in the floorboards from Snape's greasy potions'. Remus didn't mind though, he enjoyed the company of his friend and partner and the way his head nestled snugly against Sirius's shoulder as they sat in each other's arms.

They had been sitting in a comfortable, thoughtful silence for a while now, each lost in their thoughts as they stared into the flames. Although there was little variation in what they were thinking, as with the rest of the world that moment. After the meeting the day before everyone had been shocked to discover the information that they were gathering. Remus was especially concerned as to how an eight-year-old had gained so much power through accidental magic, how he had been over the level of any auror in Britain at such a young age.

Since he had appeared over a week ago now, both Remus and Sirius's hopes of him returning to them were slowly depleting, as the teenager had somehow managed to disappear again just as efficiently as he had the first time. It was hard for Sirius, who had been planning what he would say when he met him since the day the papers were published, and he was slowly becoming more and more subdued as the days dragged on. The only thing stopping him from sulking were his classes, in which he would release his frustration on taking points from Slytherin. Sirius favoured Gryffindor almost as much as Snape with Slytherin, and the 'almost' was only because Remus had tried to stop him.

Sirius had been checking his copy of the marauders map every night after dinner just to check whether his godson had 'popped in for a surprise visit', and every time he found his name missing Remus's heart would break for him.

"Moony?" Sirius asked quietly after a while, drawing Remus closer as he shuffled his legs closer.

"Mmm?" Remus asked, looking up with his golden eyes and sending up a small smile, before snuggling back down.

"Do- well do you think- do you think he'll ever be coming back?" he whispered, and Remus sighed against his chest.

"What I think?" he asked, and Sirius nodded as he looked down hopefully with his grey eyes. "I think he will. He's made his allegiance and can't bring down the whole deatheater army on his own. He'll need to make contact sooner or later, it's just a matter of time." He felt Sirius sigh as his chest heaved and dropped, and Remus frowned sadly.

"It's just- he's just gone again like nothing has ever happened, and there was an attack on Batter End a couple of days ago and he never showed up. People died Moony, and he never showed."

Remus shut his eyes and concentrated on the warm glow washing over him from the fire. These were questions that everyone had asked, it was just Sirius who was dwelling on them.

"He's only a child Sirius, if he'd died in Batter End the war would be over before it had even truly begun." He replied calmly.

"Suppose," Sirius murmured, and wound his arm around Remus's shoulders to pull him closer.

There was silence again, but Remus could tell that Sirius wouldn't leave the conversation at that when there were so many questions to be asked. He kept his eyes and ears open for Sirius to ask something else, but he didn't have to wait long.

"Do- do you even think he knows we exist?" he whispered.

Remus tensed, frowning thoughtfully into the flames to find himself surprised that he'd never thought of it. Slowly he unwound himself from Padfoot's arms and sat upright, turning to look him in the eyes as he ignored the pain it caused him to see the hurt in Sirius's face.

"I don't know," he whispered, and Sirius dropped his eyes sadly. He began to turn back to the fire, but Remus stopped him as he cupped his chin in his hand and gently turned his face to look him in the eyes again.

"But I do know that when he comes back, not if but when, it'll be impossible for him not to love you," Remus leaned foreword and placed a tender kiss on the lips of his lover, and Sirius returned it softly before Remus broke away and smiled gently, before curling back by his side.

Sirius sighed but felt that the weight had already been lifted from his shoulders and the aching had dimmed in his chest cavity.

"Thanks Moony, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Remus smiled, "something stupid no doubt," he returned slyly, and Sirius chuckled happily in return, making him smile even more.

…

In the forest Harry settled himself down between the roots of a huge tree on a bed of moss and leaves he had gathered before. The cold breeze played with his midnight black mane and the tail wrapped around his white body and pretended that it was as warm as he'd have liked it to be. Having lived in Russia for quite some time he had grown used to the bitter weather, but it was one thing being either hot or cold, but in Britain it was always somewhere drearily in between.

Not three hours later he woke up screaming, in his human form once more.

He breathed harshly and hissed in pain as he brought his hand to the scar on his head, and blearily brought himself to his knees as he tried to dull the pain that was making it hard to see. He hadn't had one of these nightmares in years, not since he had been taught to clear his mind, but because he had gone to sleep before with troubled thoughts he had left his mind open and exposed.

Without thinking he groped around the ground, looking for a rock, and transfigured it into a rather mouldy looking parchment. Without even a whispered incantation words appeared in the page, each letter different to the other and no form of clear writing style apparent, and it disappeared into a small ball of flames.

He leant back against the roots of the tree and rolled his head to press his scar against the moist bark, letting it cool, and groaned silently as he tried to forget the sounds of screaming and murder that had been burned into the back of his eyeballs.

…

Fawks jerked awake on his perch to see the piece of parchment fluttering down to the ground, slightly charred at the edges making ash rain down around it. Without thought the bird pushed itself off its perch and retrieved the letter off the floor, before looking it over.

AtTaCk On DiAGoN AlLeY, AbOUt 100 DeAThEaterS AnD ClAN of VaMPiRes, ToO LaTe TO SavE WeSt End, BurnInG BuilDiNGs, LoOkInG FoR SoMEThiNG In ThE BaNk, GoBliNS DrawIng Back.

The phoenix let out a startled cry and fire flew directly to Grimmauld place, and dropped the piece of parchment in front of its master. The old man took one look at the message and was on his feet, and within 15 minutes most of the order was on the scene.

….

**Twinreader** – Thanks for the review, I put slash in the title for the Sirius/Remus pairing and also to leave myself a little room for if the story leans in that direction. I hadn't actually read 'Unicorn Child' by Felenity before, nor even heard of it, but thanks for bringing it to my attention. I admit the basic plot is similar, and obviously the title, but I apologise if I'm taking ideas without realising. Unicorn Child was to do with the whole 'soul' thing, and it came off the top of my head one day.

Thanks to **Vespalady **and **DarkBellona **For helping with the spelling, I'll admit I'm not very good at it, lol.

Thanks for all of those who reviewed, I loved them all and they really made me feel special!

Review!


	5. Sunrise on chaos

(A/N: you wouldn't **believe **how many great idea's I have for this story, I've suddenly had a breakthrough or something and all of these plot twists are jumping on me like savage dogs!

Okay, bad example…

But anyway, be in for some great surprises if you decide to keep reading, they involve many things that you would never have even thought of! Okay, I've got a bit of a big head now… shutting up.)

Tally ho!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Get oof meine clook, idiot!" Von Schreiber barked angrily against the swirling torrent of snow obscuring their vision. His balaclava had been pulled up until it reached just beneath his eyes, and he'd had to put a sticking charm on his hat to keep it on his head. Schirov brought his huge tree like foot out of the snow and almost immediately the German's cloak bellowed and almost wrapped around him twice, before he struggled free.

"It is not my fault dat you decided ve vould go treasure 'unting in dis disgusting veather! Ve could be varm and dry vid a warm coop of vodka and a belly full of food! But no! Ve ad to go out in a blizzard to try and track someone ven ve can't even see de 'and in front of our face!" Schirov growled in return over the howl of the wind, and the German's murky blue eyes narrowed as the only things visible on his face.

Schirov's eyebrows were thick with snow, as with the long hair that hung out of the thick fur hood shadowing half of his face and making his shape hard to distinguish against the sea of white. His broad shoulders spanned to thick arms laden with fur, and beneath the grip of thick wolf skin mittens he held a forked stick that was being blown about in the snow.

Kurt Schirov came from a long line of very talented Russian drowsers, and from their origins of finding water with their enchanted wood they had strengthened to finding almost everything and anything that they wish. At the moment Kurt was trying everything he could think of, signature, DNA, name, face, visual components, and even body heat to keep track of his German partner through the endless white.

So far all he'd gotten was a couple of animal tracks and the faint signatures from passers by. Apparently the Potter face wasn't within the sticks range, but then again he could be wearing a disguise. But Kurt didn't believe for a moment that the child was in the city any more, as he was positive he would have found the idiot by now, and would had gotten himself safely back to the hotel for a well deserved shot of strong spirits.

"Zere's a forest up ahead!" Serge called back from somewhere before him, and Kurt tried to look out from beneath his snow laden eyebrows to make out the form of his partners lashing cloak in the storm. How the German could see anything in this Kurt didn't know, but he pushed his huge form through the heavy winds and soon found himself heaving his legs up an incline. It didn't help that the snow was sticking to the fur and now his feet felt like concrete, but the heavy weight that would have made most give up didn't seem to affect him.

Von Schreiber was almost knocked over as he entered the forest and broke the first layer of trees, ending up having to dig the metal knives that were protruding from the heel of his boot into the soil and cling onto a sapling. Schirov came up beside him a moment later, the many different patchwork furs on his coat ruffling in the wind while he stood upright, holding out his stick and looking down with concentration.

The wind was running through the forest harder than it was outside because of it being trapped beneath and canopy, making it weave and howl around the trees at fast speeds. Von Schreiber pushed himself onward as Kurt strode beside him, and the deeper they got into the forest the weaker the wind became until they were standing upright without any strain, snowflakes falling from beneath the leaves like a scatter of icing sugar.

The German lowered himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree and brought down his balaclava to take a look around. They were in an evergreen wood, much like every other wood in Russia, with trees reaching up to stab at the sky and disappear amidst the snow. In the distance there was a small mountain range hidden by the pines, and if he listened hard enough he could hear the sounds of animals nearby.

But the huge hunk of his partner, slowly making his way further into the forest as he looked down at the stick beneath showy eyebrows as though it were the only thing in the world, caught his attention. He had trouble hiding his relief as he brought himself back onto his feet and retracted the blades on his heels before following after the huge hulk of the Russian. If he was that concentrated on the stick and not winging about the weather or missing his alcohol, he'd found something, and if he'd found something then Serge could collect his money and go somewhere with a better climate.

…

Remus Lupin stood amongst the wreckage of Diagon alley with sadness in his eyes. He'd had so many good memories here, buying his first wand, getting his school supplies, and it was much the same for every other wizard in England. It was such a shock to see such a beautiful, peaceful neighbourhood slaughtered while they slept.

Behind him, toward the entrance to the village, was carnage of burnt buildings and aurors trying to count the dead. The leaky cauldron was the only edifice to have survived because the arch had somehow refused to open to the deatheaters, but the rest was a different story. There were not many buildings still standing, and those that were had the blackened marks around their broken windows where the flames had licked at the brickwork from inside. The apocathery smelt disgusting as the ministry workers continued to try and put the flames out on the potions ingredients inside. A thick blue smoke was wafting from the windows and door, and the drain outside, and inside there had been so many explosions that there was not much left.

Eylops Owl Imporium was a sickening sight; many of the birds sucked dry by the vampires once the smell of blood had driven them towards any source of it they could find. The bodies of birds and tufts of feathers littered the street outside, and inside there was little difference. Remus felt nauseous as he watched the remaining occupants try and help with re-building their community, as he looked out to see the bloodshed and felt his wolf stir inside of him. It made him remember how, deep down, he was little different to those creatures that had pillaged the alley, how as the smells of blood wafted up his nostrils he felt himself pine for the taste.

Gringotts bank, where the whole fiasco had been aimed at, was still standing however. The doors had been burnt and crushed and there were chunks missing from the outside, but it was still standing, jutting out at odd angles as though threatening to collapse, just the same as it always had. Had the order not got there, there would have been nothing left to save.

It had been a carefully planned operation, with the deatheaters waiting until there was no moon in the sky to launch their attack. Without the moons glow reflecting the sunlight to touch the earth the Vampires were at their strongest, and Remus felt sure that they had been more than just a scare tactic.

Vampire's poses weak mind control, enough to make their victims come to them without a fuss and forget everything that's happened if they're not killed. Once a month it becomes strong enough to control not only prey, but also magical creatures, in a way that not even the unforgivables can do. Somehow he knew that, had the goblins not kept themselves shut tight, they would have been subjected to that very fate, and in turn Voldemort would have gained access to any vault he could have wanted.

The question still remained though, what had he wanted?

Whatever it was it must have been important, because there wasn't much that the dark lord didn't already have. There were riches and jewels and bonds and paintings and scrolls, but it must have been something far better than any of those. Most of his deatheaters owned those vaults anyway, their rich pureblood lines reaching to mounds and mounds of golden galleons and sparkling jewels, so what was he after?

Remus had no idea, as with almost everyone else.

But there was another question worrying him, another piece of the puzzle that just didn't fit. Remus sighed and pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket and gently smoothed it out as he had done hundreds of times already. The message, the message of warning depicting something that not even Lucius Malfoy had been told about. No deatheaters other than the ones involved had been informed, so how could this mystery person have known?

If it were one of the deatheaters that had written it, they had certainly chosen a strange time to show their allegiance. Those involved that night weren't even in the inner circle; they were merely expendables. So why would one send warning to the order without even a name when they would no doubt have known they would be arrested? None of it made sense, how the letter had arrived barely 10 minutes into the fighting, including the time that it had taken fawks to get there, and it had taken the order another 15 minutes to get there themselves.

But however Remus knew that it was a stupid thought, however much he _knew _that there was no evidence what so ever to support it, he couldn't help but wonder… wonder if their mysterious helper had, in fact, been the young man who had vowed to help towards the cause. The young man who had disappeared, the young man Remus had read bedtime stories to when he was a child.

But could Harry Potter really be the one? He'd done nothing for Batter End, so why now? And how would he have known?

Remus shook his head and screwed the paper back into his pocket again, before making his way over to the nearest auror to ask if she would need any help. Sirius was taking his lessons today, so he had time to try and make things right, to try and ignore his guilty thoughts in the knowledge that he himself was little better.

…

Lucius Malfoy fell into the chair in the potion masters lounge, and winced in pain. Voldemort had been angry, no, he had been beyond angry; he'd been absolutely livid. And a happy lord Voldemort wasn't a good thing, let along one that's ripe and ready to rip the balls off anyone in sight.

"My chair," Snape managed to grunt out, indicating that the rich blood red seat Lucius had fallen into was, in fact, the only one in the room. Lucius just about managed to lift his hand and wave his wrist in dismissal before it fell back limply into his lap.

"Tough," was his response, wincing as he repositioned himself, "my chair now."

Snape shot him a death glare worthy of use upon his most bothersome students, before grunting and shuffling from the room and into the potions laboratory. Lucius sighed and sunk lower, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the throbbing pain pulsating through his entire body, and his broken shoulder blade. How one could get a broken shoulder blade, he did _not _know, but when it's jutting out of your back awkwardly it's a little hard to suggest that it wasn't.

Surprisingly enough, even though it hurt to breath, they had both gotten off relatively lightly. At least two deatheaters had died, _two, _just because Voldemorts plan had gone wrong, even though none of them had known about it until after it had started. But Lucius knew one thing for sure from his experience, and that was whatever had been in that bank, whatever they hadn't got, must have been important. And important to Voldemort means disastrous to everyone else, including Lucius and his family, which were the only people besides Snape he could frankly give a toss about.

"Father?"

Lucius turned slowly, wincing not because of pain this time, until his weary eyes came to rest on the form of his son standing in the doorway.

Draco seemed half dressed, meaning that he had come in a hurry. His black shirt wasn't tucked in and he wasn't wearing any shoes. His blonde hair came to tickle beneath his chin and his eyes, the eyes that were normally so guarded, were hurt and pleading. Lucius realised that he was covered in blood, most of it not his own, and sighed, beckoning his son into the room.

Draco hesitantly came to stand before his father, his eyes beginning to well with unshed tears upon seeing him beaten and bruised, and Lucius could only manage a small watery smile before Draco had wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Draco buried his face in his father's sweet smelling locks and Lucius stroked his son's hair as he felt the hot tears begun to run from his son's eyes.

"Oh Draco," He sighed, "I do wish you'd knock."

His son let out a small choke against the crook of his neck and Lucius frowned, tightening the embrace even though it was causing him pain. He knew that it hurt his son to see him like this, after the deatheater meetings that he was still a part of even though he was against.

"Why?" Draco whispered against his hair. "Why do you do it?"

Lucius winced as his sigh seemed to cut into his chest, and he gently untangled his son form around his neck and held him at arms length with his working limb, looking him in the eyes. Draco defiantly tried to hold his gaze even though his eyes were red rimmed from tears, but before long he had to look away. Lucius watched a single tear drip into his lap form the end of his sons nose, and once more sighed and drew him in. He ignored the pain.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to sound soothing although it was completely against his nature, "that Potter brat seems more than capable."

Draco sniffed and wiped his eyes, sitting on his fathers lap without noticing the pained wince that was pulling at Locus's eye. "You think-" he began, trying to search the others face for the truth, "You think that he'll really end this?"

Lucius nodded slowly, trying to look confident although he was feeling anything but.

"Drink," Snape commanded, emerging from the potions room from where he had no doubt been listening. In each hand he held a goblet of frothing potion, which smelt bad even from the other side of the room. The elder Malfoy snatched the potion with as much force as he could muster, glaring at Snape who simply smirked in return, before downing the awful stuff.

"Urg," he spluttered, slamming the empty cup on the armrest as his face screwed up with the taste. "That stuff tastes like socks!" he protested.

"Works though," Snape replied lazily with a smug look, taking a seat on the identical chair he had conjured for himself while Lucius hadn't been looking, and drinking his own. Lucius noted with grim satisfaction that Serverus too noticed the flavour as it crept down his neck and began numbing and healing the magical torture marks.

"I really do have to work on the flavour," he said after a moment.

"You really do," Lucius agreed, giving him his own smug look, and Snape replied with a weak scowl before he shifted a little in his chair.

He'd just remembered that his friend's son was still seated on the armrest of his fathers seat, looking at him with expectant red-rimmed eyes. He sent a quick glance at Lucius who looked up at Draco uneasily, before sighing.

"The future has many possible routes, it depends upon many factors what will happen. But I hold my faith in the order and _Potter"_ he spat the name as though it were an obscenity, "and believe that in the end, we have a better chance of winning than the dark lord."

"You sound like that old bat Trelawney," Lucius snorted, and Snape's eyes darkened to a scowl even though a coy smile tugged at his lip.

"Just don't do anything stupid," Draco muttered, wiping his eyes on the cuff of his expensive shirt.

"Moi?" the two men said almost in unison, and it even brought a small smile to Draco's face.

But the unease still remained in the 16-year-old's heart as he looked at his father and his friend laughing over the open bottle of port. To most they would seem perfectly content, if a little snotty, but Draco could see the tenseness in his fathers shoulders and the way Snape's eyes remained guarded even in the company of friends. They had seen too much, and they were being changed against their will. They had to keep up a charade to cover their true selves, the selves that Draco loved, and it hurt him to know that he was little different.

Draco couldn't be prouder of his father for becoming a spy, it was one of the most honourable things a Malfoy had ever done in all of the many generations. But he loved his father dearly, and hated to see this happening.

The blonde sighed and looked over to the window, seeing the sun setting above the forest to bring an end to a treacherous day. He could almost imagine the smoke rising up from the burning buildings of Diagon alley, even though it was too far away to be seen.

Draco bid goodnight to his father and professor, before turning back towards the dungeons with his mask once more firmly in place, even though his eyes were still puffy and his shirt still damp. He wondered what tomorrow would bring, and how their lives would be jeopardised again.

He stopped at another window and looked out to see the tops of the gnarled trees glowing orange in the sunlight. He put his hand up to the glass and watched the glass mist around it, and sighed.

"Where are you, Harry Potter?"

…

Harry let his fingers run down the dusty glass of the shrieking shack as he sighed, seeing his handprint fading away as though it'd never even been there. He turned and walked back over to a decrepit Persian rug and stopped to look down at the small object wrapped in cloth lying in the dust.

This was the object that had caused all of this death, this was the reason that all of those people had died at the hands of Voldemort in Diagon alley. This was the reason he had gone to Gringotts over a week ago, and the reason that it was now barely even standing. He didn't know how he knew that this was what Voldemort had been after, but the coincidence was too convenient and his senses were tingling.

Cautiously he brought himself down to his knees and reached out to push back the rich purple cloth, revealing the article inside. It was about the size of a fist, a gem much like an opal rimmed in steel that was incrusted with rubies. In the half light of the glowing sunset Harry could see the stone swirling like silver and gold, with the shadows turning into blue on one side. He didn't dare touch the middle directly, instead let his fingers roam over the metal and the rubies that were still sharp even though cut. They glistened blood red, almost enticing, and he drew his hand away and took a step back.

This thing, whatever it was, it was so mysterious and enticing that he didn't know what to make of it. On his shoulder Turdus bristled with distrust and shifted closer to his face, and Harry noted his familiars unease towards the foreign entity. It almost called for him whenever he got too close, he just wanted to wrap his hands around it and look into that stone forever, as though it held the answers to everything he had ever wanted. But he didn't want to, it was the stone that wanted him too, and he wouldn't trust it with a grain of sand, let alone his life.

He'd gone into Gringotts bank, originally, just to withdraw money. He'd need some for the wizarding world whether he actually chose to stay there or not. He'd need wizard robes and things that would make him fit in, and he'd needed to pay off the deposit for the papers that were now delivered to him every day in the forest.

And that's when he had seen it.

**Flashback**

"_What's that?" _he asked Rag nook as the Goblin lingered outside of the door as though wary to enter. Even then the stone had called to him, it had been the first thing he had seen when he'd entered his vault. He'd ignored the mounds of gold, the portraits of generations of Potters watching him. He'd ignored the chests of rubies and emeralds and diamonds, ignored the jewellery and the rows and rows of knives and swords.

It was just the stone, as though nothing else had been there at all. Just that one glowing rock that seemed to call his name the closer he got, the stone that was so many colours at once yet none at all.

"_It was given to you after your parents died, by an undisclosed donor. It's not unusual, after the Potters were killed many wizards and witches thought it their duty to donate a little to you, seeing as you ultimately saved them all. At least, until he came back again."_ Ragnook replied casually, but Harry noted that he still refused to enter.

He ignored it and turned back to the stone, coming to stand before it and running his finger around the rim. It sat on a small black pillow upon a stand that looked much like a Greek Pillar, only in slate grey, and it seemed to be even more alight than the many actually glowing artefacts scattered around the vault.

He'd wrapped it carefully in a cloth that he had summed from his pocket, and had slipped it inside his robes before he could give it further thought.

End Flashback 

It was definitely not light, that was for sure, but Harry felt wrong in calling it dark either. It wasn't dark, it wasn't evil, and he could feel it. Yet it wasn't light. It was too strangely beautiful, too manipulative and mysterious to be light. He could feel its magic and it was unlike he had ever felt before, it wasn't necessarily strong, but it was unbelievably potent. The smell of magic seemed to well in his head and make him feel light, almost euphoric as he looked at it.

But it was most certainly not to be trusted. Trust was a lesson that Harry Potter had learnt at a young age, he'd learnt not to give it. For years he had trusted his relatives to find that everything they had ever told him had been a lie, and after that no human had ever gained it again. He didn't give his trust easily any more, it needed to be earned. That was why he didn't trust Dumbledore, why he didn't trust the order, why he didn't trust wizards, and now, why he didn't trust whatever it was he had taken from his vault.

He hesitantly approached it again, and swallowed hard as he felt his fingers seem to tingle and crave it the nearer he got. He reached out slowly, dropping to his knees as the magic made his head swim and he numbly stretched his fingertips to brush the surface of the stone. The colours seemed to swirl around his fingertips for a second before he pulled his hand away, clutching it to his chest.

Determined, he reached out again and pushed the cloth back over the stone, and almost immediately felt its effect dampened. He breathed a sigh of relief and fell backwards onto the floor and watched the dust rise around his head, the particles glowing in the setting sun.

He was sure of one thing, and that was if Voldemort got his hands on whatever it was, then chaos would ensue. He pushed himself back up and angrily stuffed the stone into his pocket, before striding form the room and back towards the forest.

Whatever happened, he wouldn't let Voldermot get it.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Just so you know, I really can't write other accents, so I apologise if it sounds really weird.

Thanks for all of the reviewers! I love all of them no matter how small.

Blue XxX


	6. the wolf and the grim

"_He shall be a lucky boy indeed Shen, a lucky boy indeed."_

A small woman crouched down before a little pool of water, seemingly looking at her own reflection. Her face was youthful yet eternally old, and her black hair was streaked with silver. She spoke quietly in Chinese, almost a whisper that was carried off by the wind that howled around the base of the mountain.

"_Mm-hm" _another voice agreed. The flickering of the water momentarily caught on the brilliant red scales of a huge dragon's head as its vast black eyes watched the pool calmly and reflectively. His enormous form was curled around the edge of the cavern, encircling the small woman protectively against the cool night air that was licking at the lip of the cave.

"_But the question is- could he do without it?" _She muttered, and the dragon turned its head towards her and watched her for what could have been an eternity. The hood of her robes slipped a little as she looked out at him from the side of her eye, and gave a small but enigmatic smile as though she knew something no one else did. The dragon continued to look at her thoughtfully, before he looked back down at the puddle.

"_A little magic from the luck dragon never hurt," _he said eventually, mirth glinting in his midnight eyes.

The woman backhanded its nose, and the dragon's tongue flicked out in distaste.

"_Wrong answer!" _she barked, yet her voice barely rose.

"_No need for violence," _he muttered dryly, and brought up a paw to delicately touch his muzzle. The huge claws glistened like ebony in the reflective glow of the water.

"You know that we-" 

"_Yes, yes, 'never interfere with the lives of mortals unless absolutely necessary'," _he muttered, imitating her voice rather poorly. She scowled from beneath the shadows of her hood, but it never reached her eyes, and in turn she backhanded the dragon again.

He muttered something under his breath, probably unclean to her immortal ears, and she decided to ignore it.

"_Answer correctly."_

The dragon put a paw back down from where he had been rubbing his snout, and narrowed his eyes at her. He glared at her for a while, but slowly his dangerous features relaxed to a contemplation in which their eyes never locked, yet never left the others'.

"_He shall make the choice," _he said carefully, waiting to be backhanded again.

She looked at him for a while, before sharply nodding.

"_Correct answer."_

The dragon rolled his massive eyes and snorted, she ignored him.

"_But we shall aid when needed," _he said as an afterthought.

She looked up at him and merely observed blankly for a moment, before nodding again and turning back to the pool.

"_Correct answer."_

The dragon shook its massive head and placed it back down on the cold floor of their cave, before closing his giant eyes and basking in the glow of the water.

Silence hung upon the walls for a while, and the gentle hissing of the wind rippled the surface of the pool like silk as she looked down at it thoughtfully. Slowly her reflection began to darken, the liquid swirling like thunderclouds before it began to clear again. The woman leant a little closer and another knowing smile curled at her lips as she looked down to see the image below.

Harry Potter ran through the forest, his golden hoofs hitting the earth and the branches whipping his body, mane flowing like midnight air. He leapt over nothing at all just to experience the feel of his feet not touching the ground, before he once more connected with the earth. He was happy and free, yet Chiyo Yamamoto knew that reality was far from the illusion. In the forest he was free, when he ran and felt the wind in his hair he was free, but the moment he stepped out to see the rest of his kind he wouldn't be.

How would a wild being react to being chained down?

She leant back against the dragons belly and put her hands together in thought, her features devoid of emotion but her eyes alive. Moments passed and slowly the great beast cracked open one eye and studied her, knowing that she was thinking deeply. He watched until she finally broke the silence.

"_Perhaps a little luck wouldn't hurt," _she murmured, and the dragon nodded.

Silence carried once more, and the woman went back to looking past the rock surface into her musings.

"_That means that I was right," _the dragon whispered after a while with amusement clear in his bright tone.

"_I will not hesitate to hurt you Shen," _she replied, smirking to herself.

He muttered something again, and she ignored him.

…

He'd stopped again, at the same place they had stopped over and over for the past week. Serge let out a gruff sigh. He peered impatiently from beneath the rim of his hat and pointedly glared at the Russian, before skulking off to sit down again.

"I do not understand," Kurt muttered, yet again.

"'Ardly surprising," Serge snorted, yet again.

Von Schreiber watched scathingly as Schirov frowned thoughtfully, making his marred face further crushed and his thick nose wrinkle in a manner that made the German grimace. One would have thought that the assassin would have done something irrational or startling by this point, but in truth that had passed days ago.

He swore the stick was malfunctioning, but Kurt just wasn't going to accept it. It didn't help that he had a strange nagging feeling in the back of his mind, almost as though he had forgotten something, and not knowing always put Serge on edge.

Von Schreiber came from a very long line of rich purebloods, and he had grown up on expensive things, although he had never been spoiled. He wasn't the complaining type, he had learnt at a young age that complaint was weakness, along with emotion, and that may have been the only thing that was keeping his companion alive at that very moment in time.

Schirov was a pureblood too, not as many generations as the Von Schreibers, but almost as pureblooded as one could get. Yet there he was, holding a stick and wearing robes that looked like half of the inhabitants of a forest fused together. The German just couldn't get his head around how a pureblood could be so- he couldn't find the right words. Uncivilised.

It was only his own stubbornness to lose to a forest that had kept him alive and rid of complaint save the odd scathing remark. He was beaten and worn, and it showed on him more than on the Russian, who had been beaten and worn already. He rubbed his hands together, and for the first time in his life wished that he hadn't brought expensive elegant leather gloves, and secretly envied the wolf skin mittens on the hands of his partner.

They hadn't left the forest for nearly a month, except to seek shelter in particularly hazardous storms, or for Kurt to buy some vodka, seeing as how they couldn't hunt and kill that. And to be honest, Von Schreiber had to begrudgingly admit that he wasn't built for it.

Although he'd never admit that aloud, the mere thought was bad enough.

Serge opened his mouth to complain, his scowl already carefully placed beneath the weather beaten rim of his extremely expensive hat, and shut his mouth again. Complaint was weakness, which undoubtedly meant that he was succumbing to following his idiot partner stalking around a forest armed with a stick.

Lovely…

"U 'av no idea 'ow ziz iz 'appening?" he asked, again, and his upper lip curled menacingly as he didn't get a response. To be ignored was an insult, but frankly, he was too tired to really care too much.

"No-" Schirov muttered after a moment, still not looking at him. "To appirate 'e would 'av left a signature, and it would 'av disappeared by now. To portkey 'e would have left faint trace from de pre-prepared magical compression dat occours ven a vizard uzez vun. E' couldn't 'av used muggle methods because dat would av left signs on the forest. Dere is simply notink here, but at de same time der must be sumsink." He paused, frowning further. "'E 'as disappeared."

"Disappeared?" the German snorted, "hardly likely, der moost be more to dis dan ve see, or dan ve sink. Ve are simply not looking at dis in ze right vay."

Schirov glanced at him thoughtfully from beneath his growing beard, much like the stubble growing on Von Schreiber's own jaw, which he detested. "You know, dat is de smartest sing you 'av said dus far."

He glared, letting his lip expose his teeth in a sneer, "To kill you vould make my job 'arder. Get oon vis it before I decide it vorse my wile to vurk alone."

The Russian tensed and glared back, but neither man was in the mood for a fight, and in turn he grunted and looked back at the stick between his hands.

…

Moony let out one last pained howl and collapsed heavily upon the dusty floor, his canine nose twitching as he threatened to sneeze. He wasn't a huge werewolf, he wasn't beefy or muscled, but he made up for that in height. Moony was unbelievably tall and rather lean, his form shallow and weak until he got up onto his hind legs and you find yourself shrinking beneath a giant.

He whimpered quietly as he felt something nudge the side of his snout, and finally the disturbance of dust became too great, and he sneezed.

Padfoot backed away a half foot and looked down his nose, feeling suddenly rather dirty. He lifted up a paw and began beating his snout to get the small globs off his black scraggly fur, and ended up beating himself half stupid.

Moony looked up and his ears perked, standing alert on either side of his canine head, as he watched his mate whacking himself over the snout, and cocked his head to the side. The pain was slowly sinking back from his new form, and he pushed himself uneasily onto his paws and approached the huge black dog with weary steps.

Padfoot fell to the floor and rolled onto his back, curling his paws as he began rubbing against the floor, in turn dislodging more dust and making it cake his fur. Moony's nose twitched and he tensed, looking down his muzzle in an attempt to hold back another sneeze.

Moony sneezed, causing his body to jerk a little backward.

Padfoot howled and began to rub against one of the old chairs, feeling contaminated.

Moony sat down and concentrated on not sneezing again, his muzzle twitching with the dust that his mate was causing to float through the air like insects. But suddenly his ears pricked up and he forgot about the dust, this time his nose was twitching for a different reason. He lifted himself up onto his hind legs and sniffed the air, casting a long dark shadow over his mate against the glow of the full moon through the dirty window.

Padfoot stopped what he was doing upon feeling the darkness around him and looked up to see the huge form of his mate with his ears pricked and nose twitching. He stopped his rubbing, forgetting the grime covering his face, and lifted himself up onto a chair to get nearer to the height of the werewolf, and sniffed the air as well.

There was another scent in the shack, one that hadn't ever been there before and had been added recently. They could smell their old pack mate Prongs, with utter disgust could smell the unmistakable whiff of rat underneath some of the chairs, and they could smell each other and blood. And now they could smell something, no- someone else.

But what was even stranger was that whoever it was smelt very vaguely familiar to them. Remus whimpered and looked out of the window, looking out longingly over the tops of the trees he wished to run through. Whoever the intruder was could run like that, he could smell it. They smelt wild and alive, young and fresh and there were smells of strange flowers Remus knew he had never smelt before.

But he smelt, unmistakably, that he had met this intruder before.

Moony looked over to Padfoot, and lowered back to the ground with a _'thunk'_ against the floorboards. The huge dog stopped sniffing at the air and leapt onto the floor as well, and lowered his nose to the dusty floor as he began following the distinct smell of flowers and the wind of the wild.

Moony sniffed at the arm of a dusty chair, its worn wine red fabric now a dull grey in the moonlight, and ran his nose along the material. There was something there, nothing much, but it was there. He could guess that perhaps the chair had been brushed in passing with a hand or arm. He let his nose trail along the odour until it reached the floor again, and both canines began making their way through the house.

They worked through almost every room, some having no scent at all and others practically reeking of it. But it was all leading to a certain direction, as the intruder had made its way through the rooms just as they were doing, and even from the bottom of the stairs both Moony and Padfoot could smell the stench wafting from one of the decrepit bedrooms.

Padfoot gave Moony a quick look from the side of his eye, and before the werewolf knew it, the grim like dog was charging up the rotting staircase with his tongue lolling to the side, grinning a huge doggy smile. Moony decided that perhaps he knew something that he did not, and charged up after him.

The werewolf had to take a half step back as he entered the room, his sensitive doggy nose now flooded with smells that he wished he could pinpoint. He looked around, seeing the huge open window displaying the full moon that was creeping through the wooden boards that lined the outside, most of them missing. There was a broken metal bed frame in the corner of the room, and a huge ornate wardrobe. But what really struck Moony was the huge Persian rug spread in the middle of the room, the scent so strong from it that he could practically smell it.

But what was even more astonishing was that in the middle of the dusty carpet lay his mate, his head held high as he howled.

…

"You're sure?" Dumbledore inquired, looking over his desk with his fingers characteristically under his chin. Sirius's hair bounced as he nodded furiously, and Remus gave a sincere nod, stiffened by the aches and pains after the full moon.

The headmaster leant back into his seat and folded his hands over his beard, his blue eyes sparkling with his obvious relief over the newest evidence on their illusive saviour. The puzzle was becoming more and more thrilling by the second, and he was enjoying himself, even in light of the Dark Lord's building attacks.

On his desk lay the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet, _filled with stories and accounts of Voldemort's latest assault. It seemed that the Dark Lord had decided to try and bait the saviour by turning on the muggle society.

It was what the headmaster had thought first. He'd thought long and hard over the possibility that Harry Potter had been living with muggles, perhaps put into an orphanage or given a new home. But it still wouldn't explain why they hadn't been able to find him, and the headmaster was wise enough to notice that it had taken strong magic to block the hundreds of post owls that had been sent.

Of course, it didn't rule out the possibility that he had been living within the muggle community, perhaps with another witch or wizard, but he was not entirely convinced. In light of the recent attacks, the bridge that had recently split in two- plunging cars into the icy waters below, or the fog that was now misting over Britain from the Dementors, Dumbledore could see that the young man either wasn't as fool hardy as his father had been, didn't know, or wasn't too concerned.

"Yes…" he muttered after a while, eyes coming back into focus as he glanced back to the two professors looking at him expectantly. "Thank you Remus, Sirius, this information is very intriguing."

"Intriguing?" Sirius demanded, looking abashed.

"Thank you, headmaster," Remus interrupted, placing a firm hand on the other mans shoulder and pulling him gently to his feet. "Sirius has classes to attend."

The man's grey-blue eyes widened as he looked up to the grandfather clock on the wall, swearing before he rushed through the doors and down the stairs. Remus shook his head, turning back to the headmaster.

"I'll apologise on his behalf, I suppose." He said with a small smile.

"Apology accepted Remus. Now, I do believe you have some homework to mark."

"Ah, the thrills of teaching," he murmured, and thanked the headmaster for his time again before leaving through the same door that Sirius had dashed through.

…

It was Ravenclaw and Slytherin double History of Magic, and the teacher was already 12 minutes late. Paper aeroplanes circled one of the Ravenclaws, who hung from the ceiling by the tips of his ears as his classmates tried to get him down, and the Slytherins sniggered. All except for Luna Lovegood, who was quite content on staring at the blackboard, where she had earlier claimed to spot a not-nearly-invisible flufflekunk.

"Can't you see it?" she asked lightly, never taking her dreamy eyes off the tip of a capital T as she donned her usual butter beer cap necklace.

The girl beside her looked up to the board and squinted to make it look as though she was trying, before looking back down to her notes where a small squat drawing of Barnabus the Barmy instructed goblins to dance.

"Once again, Luna, your eyesight astounds me," she muttered, adding to the ruff around one of the goblins' skirts. The creature had a speech bubble above it reading 'Barnabus the Barmy tried to teach me to dance in 392BC,' as it loped ungracefully over the parchment.

"Fascinating creatures," Luna whispered, looking genuinely awed.

"I'm sure they're dazzling," her friend muttered in return, sweeping her hair behind her ear as she concentrated on her notes.

Nothing was odd about Luna's friend, other than the fact that she was the only person that seemed to be able to make sense out of the strange girl's accounts. She had brown hair and brown eyes, average height and build with the average uniform donning the blue and bronze Ravenclaw crest upon its pocket. But she was writing with what appeared to be a small flamingo, which occasionally squawked when pressed too hard. One of Luna's gifts, to be certain.

She scowled at the parchment as she began to scribble furiously over one of the goblins, which shrieked beneath the quill's tip as it was engulfed in black. The flamingo squawked and flapped before dislodging itself from her hand and flying haphazardly across the room, to land back on the floor.

She sighed, and glared at her friend, who gave no indication that she had noticed, before pushing back her chair to pursue her quill.

Draco Malfoy leant casually against one of the desks smiling smugly at his work, as the Ravenclaw, Nelson French, howled in pain as one of his peers tried to tug him down.

"Look who's coming," whispered Pansy, sickly sweet, into his ear.

He turned his platinum blonde head and smiled as he saw the Ravenclaw sidestepping her frantic peers in search of that stupid pen she always used. But it was a strange smile, crooked and menacing in a way that clearly spelt trouble, yet something was off. In his eyes shone something akin to pity as he saw her looking under desks and dislodging a stray aeroplane from her hair.

He knew what it had been like to have a bad home life, once, when his father had been changed by the dark arts before he became a spy, and he knew for a fact that her home life was far from pleasant.

Her name was Leodiensian Fall, yes- a strange name if Draco had ever heard one. Leodiensian was her father's name, because they'd wanted a boy. It was common knowledge among purebloods that Helena Fall, her mother, was an utter nutcase.

She approached, looking slightly wearier than she had been on the other side of the room, but determined as she saw the pink flutter of her pen trying to escape again. And because she had her eyes on the pen, she didn't notice the foot placed neatly in her path.

She fell to the floor and landed flat on her face, before she hurriedly scrambled to her feet.

Draco joined in with the laughter from his Slytherin friends as they watched her straighten her hair and blush beetroot in rage. He wasn't just going to suddenly go soft because he felt a little sorry for her; he had a reputation to uphold.

"Looking for this?" Pansy asked innocently, holding out the flamingo that was trying to flutter out of her grasp, honking in its tiny voice. Leodiensian snatched at it, but Pansy drew back her hand in return, battering her eyelashes.

A thump resounded around the room as one of the more talented Ravenclaw students managed to unglue Nelson from the ceiling. Draco turned back around, pushing out his bottom lip.

"Aw… ruined my fun," he pouted, but it quickly turned to a smirk as the Slytherins laughed. Leodiensian scowled, and tried to snatch for the pen again before Pansy withdrew.

"You should apologise to him," she said through gritted teeth as she made a grab for the pen again, feeling it brush her fingers before it was snatched away.

Draco turned to face her slowly, and raised his eyebrow mockingly. "Apologise?" he teased, "Why should I apologise to the mudblood?"

She'd stopped trying to grab at her pen, and it seemed that Pansy had also given up taunting her, now looking expectantly between the two. The room was mostly quiet now, but they had yet to attract any attention from the students trying to organise the room again. All except for the Slytherins and Luna, who was looking at them with a blank expression that seemed a little off.

"Don't call him that!" she tried, but quickly went quiet again, seemingly surprised with her own words. Draco raised an eyebrow and stood up, towering over her as she glared weakly, and the room went quiet.

Luna Lovegood discreetly tipped her head to the side, letting her wand slip off from behind her ear and into her hand, before she placed it under the table. Nobody noticed.

"Oh, and what are you going to do about it? Set your mother on me?"

He regretted his words the moment that they left his mouth, but let nothing show on his features as he continued to look down at her with a smug expression. Her face once more flushed and she narrowed her eyes, clenching her jaw as the grip on her wand tightened.

"Don't talk about my mother like that," she hissed.

"I'm sorry- I didn't quite hear you," he tried, knowing that he was about to cross the line, but being unable to do anything about it with the group of Slytherins behind him and the Ravenclaws watching on with baited breath.

He didn't think she was going to say anything for a moment, as she continued to give her a loathing look and holding her head up high in defiance. He was relieved, relieved that she would let it drop and he wouldn't have to do anything he _might _regret.

Sadly, that wasn't the case.

"_Pilus Tussis!" _she shouted, her wand somehow already pointed at him. Before he could react he'd been hit with a sickly yellow beam, and fell backwards clutching his throat.

Goyle and Crabbe moved foreword, but before they could step too close they were each hit with a beam of pink and each dropped their wands as their hands began to swell.

Luna smiled dreamily and slipped her wand back behind her ear.

Draco finished choking to find what had been in his throat lying on the floor, and felt utterly repulsed. He'd just coughed up a hairball; it's colour the same as his hair as it slowly dripped and oozed onto the floorboards. He could already feel another one coming up.

Before it could raise he pushed himself to his feet and aimed his wand at the retreating form of the Ravenclaw, who was clutching her honking pen and scurrying off to her seat.

"_Calvus!" _He shouted, feeling another ball creeping up his throat.

Leodiensian shrieked as she was hit with his spell, and the Slytherins sniggered as she brought her hands up to her bald head and felt tears of shame pricking the edge of her eyes.

The Ravenclaws sniggered in return as Draco choked up another hairball, and his henchmen lay on the floor, trying to drag up their hands which were half the size of their legs.

"OI!"

The class went silent, and turned slowly to see their professor standing in the doorway with his wand raised. Almost immediately the class broke into talk as they each tried to defend their housemates. Sirius brought his fingers to his lips and whistled so loudly that half of the class put their hands over their ears, but they were silenced immediately.

"I am not in the mood for this!" he shouted, and the Ravenclaws looked down in shame, never having liked being told off by a teacher. "Tell me what happened or I'll give the whole class detention cleaning the cauldrons with Snape!"

They silenced.

Hesitantly, the few that were brave enough to speak raised their hands.

"You!" he snapped, and Leodiensian winced. Professor Black was definitely not in a good mood, and she didn't like getting into trouble. She looked down and hoped that he couldn't see her, but knew that she would be a little obvious seeing as how she was bald.

However, she couldn't help but smirk as she heard Malfoy cough up another hairball.

"Malfoy hung Nelson from the ceiling by his ears!" the Ravenclaw called, and the platinum blonde scowled at her, but she didn't seem to be affected. "And then he tripped Leodiensian when she went to get her pen, and insulted her. So she hexed him – that's why he's coughing up hairballs."

Sirius barely contained his smile as he saw the Slytherin stick his tongue out as he began to choke up another one again. He nodded for her to continue, and looking a little more confident, she did.

"And then Crabbe and Goyle went to hex her but Luna got them first- that's why their hands are so big."

Once more Sirius's lips twitched, but he said nothing.

"And then Malfoy hexed Leodiensian back." She finished sending a side glance at the bald girl glowing red in embarrassment, before sitting down and looking rather pleased with herself.

Sirius cleared his throat to hide his amusement and put on his teacher face, one he had practiced for hours in front of the mirror to achieve. The class cowered, and he knew that it had worked, and he let his critical gaze pass over the destruction that had once been his classroom. He felt proud, but he knew that Snape would bite his kneecaps if he found out that he'd been lenient, and he had sworn to be a better teacher than the slimy bastard if it killed him.

"Lovegood, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Fall- please go and see Professor Lupin. I'm sure that he shall find a suitable punishment."

He always sent them to Remus; he didn't want to look like the bad one. Remus hated him for it, but he knew that the werewolf wouldn't stay mad at him.

Leodiensian sniffed and put her quill back in her bag, before she and Luna rose from their seats. Luna once more had a dreamy smile on her face, and had Sirius looked close enough he would have seen something akin to triumph in her expression, but the other girl was blushing pink and had her head bowed.

Goyle and Crabbe just about managed to lift themselves to their feet, but were unable to re-pack their bags, as their hands were so huge. Sirius felt his own little satisfaction in getting back at the Slytherins as he didn't undo the hex and left them to drag their arms out of the door behind them. Malfoy glared before he began to choke again, and Sirius smirked as he ran out after them.

"Right class!" he chirped, slapping his hands together and grinning. "Sorry I'm late!"


	7. Shimmer

I brought a ticket to see Less than Jake, but I accidentally got the wrong day because my bloody friend is an idiot. So now I can't go, and I was sitting about doing nothing until I thought I'd make the best of the situation and do something productive. So here's chapter 7 of Unicorn Child.

Please forgive me for the delay. I deserve a beating.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You do realise that this is all your fault." Leodiensian snapped as she ripped the brambles from her robes, kicking at the bush angrily.

"My fault!" Draco cried, putting a hand over his heart as he ambled through the forest, trying to keep the fact that he was terrified to himself. Of all of the things they could have had detention doing, he had to say that walking through the forest at midnight looking for a couple of flowers for the fist year Herbology class was at the bottom of the list. He'd have preferred to be hanging by his thumbs in Filch's office.

"Yes- your fault. If you'd just kept your big mouth shut and your big headed friends under control we wouldn't be here!" She hissed.

Every fibre of her being hated the blonde in that moment, and even though she knew that it was quite improbable, she couldn't help but feel that he'd known she'd been afraid of the dark. The forest was damp and eerily silent around them, and they seemed to pick up even the fainted noises in the silence, which made the hairs prick on the back of their necks. Somewhere a twig snapped, and the two of them tensed for a moment, before they breathed out.

"I really preferred you when you were quiet!" he grumbled.

"So you think I'm just going to shut up because you tell me?" She dared, glaring at him even though she knew that she was being far too loud when they were in the middle of a forest. At night.

"Yes." He replied simply. Leodiensian looked as though she was going to reply, and by the look on her face it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Be Quiet, or ya'll disturb summin that dun wanna be disturbed, if ya catch m' drift." Hagrid said over his shoulder, and the girls watched with amusement as Draco paled a few shades and subconsciously shuffled closer to Fang.

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled behind them, looking about them with wide eyes as though expecting it to repel whatever could kill them. They twitched whenever anyone spoke too loud, and Crabbe had yelped when someone accidentally stepped on his foot, and it looked as though he had very nearly wet himself.

Luna, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. She hadn't really spoken as of yet, but whenever either Crabbe or Goyle tripped or became startled her eyes seemed to flash for a moment. Leodiensian was suspicious, and deep down wondered if her friend was more malicious than she had ever given her credit for.

"Righ'," Hagrid sighed, turning towards the teenagers with his crossbow over his shoulder. "You ain't tha best lot fer the job, but I suppose you'll do. Crabbe, Goyle, I dare say that ya'll benefit a little more bein with me than Fang, so you two'll be cumin with me. The rest of ya, you'll take Fang and go lookin in tha' direction." He pointed over his shoulder to a gap between two rather menacing looking trees. Draco swallowed.

"Take these," he said, offering out a handful of what looked like jam jars to Luna, who gave them her complete attention as she cradled the bundle in her arms. "Wen ya see any moondrops jus' pop em in ere and shut tha lid tight." He looked over them for a moment with his beetle black eyes.

Leodiensian was staring off to his left with a detached expression, but she was milky white, which contrasted to her short brown hair in the darkness. Draco's eyes darted through the trees as though they had a mind of their own, and he was shifting his weight a lot as though willing himself to spring out of the path of anything that decided to hurl itself at him. Crabbe and Goyle looked about ready to trip over their own feet, and Luna was holding up one of the jars to her eye as though there was something terribly exciting inside it.

"Don' forget- I dun want ya goin' too deep inta the forest, the deeper ya are the more likely that there's summin in there that dun want'cha there." Either Draco or Leodiensian made a small noise in the back of their throat, although Hagrid couldn't tell which. They had edged a little closer to each other without noticing, and for some reason it seemed to clam each of them down a little. Hagrid let out a deep sigh, and it seemed to rumble through them. Leodiensian made another noise, as her lips moved a little, and Draco swallowed hard.

"Dun go too near the centaurs either, they aint 'ostile or anythin, but they're a little territorial about humans goin into their forest. In fac'-" he seemed to think over telling them, as they seemed frightened enough already. "In fac' they've already sorta- banned us from their par' of the forest, so I dun think you'll ge' a good reception if ya stray too close." He laughed nervously.

Draco's eyes stopped darting about, and fixed on the half giant. Hagrid was a little taken aback with the look, hard and accusing, before they began flickering about again with renewed vigour. The girl moved from his side and latched onto Luna's arm, who seemed a little startled with the contact for a moment before she relaxed and went back to looking around with interest. Crabbe and Goyle looked immensely thankful to be with Hagrid, all loyalty for Draco lost as they edged towards the half giant. Draco scowled, before half jumping as something howled in the distance.

"We'll meet ya righ' back here when you've filled yer jars. Cummon you two- lets get a move on before the real beasties come out, eh?" he joked. No one found it funny. He looked around at the others nervously before waving a dustbin lid sized hand in the other direction and turning to walk away. Crabbe and Goyle couldn't get fast enough to reach his side, and the other three were left with a dog they all knew was afraid of his own shadow.

Draco swallowed, and tried to refresh his parched throat and his tongue that suddenly felt like sandpaper. The trees looked even more frightening now, great big looming shadows casting over them with faces in their rotting bark. He looked at the other two, secretly wondering which one he could throw in front of himself if something attacked him, before he began to walk uneasily in the direction that they had been told.

…

The snow had given up for the first time since they had arrived, almost. Serge lay on the same fallen tree that he had lounged on for the past month, but this time Kurt wasn't standing before the space between two similar trees as he had been before, but was sitting and sulking. He looked down at the stick between his hands, and sighed.

"Stop your blobbering und get to vurk," Von Schreiber snapped from his tree trunk, and the Russian growled at him. The Germans hat was over his face and his hands were behind his head, and he looked far too relaxed for Schriov's liking. No one had a right to be happy when he was miserable, even if that person could very easily kill him.

"Fin zen! You try if you zink your so damned smart!" he bellowed, throwing the stick to the German, who lazily tipped his hat back and looked at it with distaste.

"Nein danke," he replied, before replacing his hat and shifting his weight to a more comfortable position. Schirov growled, and marched over to pick up the stick again before sulking back to where he had been before.

He looked down at his hands glumly. He was a failure to his family. His father had taught him, as his father's father had taught him before, that you never questioned the Divining Rod. Ever. Yet here he was sitting in the snow because he'd finally, for the first time in his life, been defeated. The magical paths had all lead to the same place, whether animal tracks or human, whether old or new. It seemed that all of the magic was collecting somehow, and he knew that it was important to finding the boy, but he just couldn't figure out how.

All he wanted was to find the boy and perhaps make sure that Von Schreiber met with an extremely unfortunate accident on his way back to Germany. Sudden freak snow falls and avalanches were common at this time of year, and deadly to those who didn't know how to escape. It really wasn't much to ask for.

Suddenly the stick began to vibrate, making the fur on his mittens quake and stand on end like a frightened cat. He jerked to his feet, startled by the sudden movement after having gone so long with so little, and let his hands be guided in the direction that the Rod wanted to take.

The German slowly tipped the rim of his hat back and looked out into the harsh white surrounding them to see his partner up on his feet again, slowly revolving in a circle. He'd long since decided that that other man was deluded for thinking that a stick would find the boy, but he hadn't been able to stop the sudden excitement that bubbled within him whenever the Russian seemed to pick up anything. He infolded his long, lean limbs and slipped the knives out from his boots in readiness for more walking through deep snow, covering his face in the balaclava before taking a few slow steps forward. He'd learnt from numerous false scares like this one that it wasn't vital he ready himself when most of the time he'd only sit back down again, but the Russian seemed like a huge hound with a scent.

Kurt tried to keep a good hold on the rod as he ambled further through the thick snow, unaware of the rest of his surroundings, but it was difficult with thick fur mittens on. The rod was vibrating in his hands like metal being attracted to a strong magnet, and every so often it slipped a little further out of his grasp. To compensate he increased his pace with bounding strides, though he could feel the strain on his legs with the snow on his boots weighing him down.

Serge looked up from beneath his hat to see the hulking shape of his partner growing smaller, slowly merging into the endless expanse of white and trees. He'd found soon after beginning to walk that his knives were more hindrance than help, as they sank into the snow along with his feet, and had to retract them. The carpet beneath him swallowed his legs like an ocean, and he had to wade through the thick snowfall as though a child on the beach. His murky blue eyes narrowed amongst the shadows beneath the brim of his hat, and without notice a long yellow wand was in his hand, and he was silently melting the snow around his feet, which soaked through his trousers with pleasant warmth he hadn't felt in weeks. Slowly he began to catch up.

The Rod finally broke lose from the Russian's hands and Kurt stumbled a few feet in the snow before he began pushing himself forward with all of his strength, heading straight toward where his rod had imbedded itself in the snow a few hundred paces off. He'd only once seen the rod act in such a way before, and that was when the rabbit he was hunting as a child had run into his burrow and Kurt had been standing right on top of it. He couldn't help but feel pleasure and satisfaction, knowing for sure that it was only a matter of time now until they found the accursed boy and he could go back to doing what he liked.

In the corner of his eye he could see the German pulling up beside him, his long legs somehow managing to keep pace with his own through the snow. However, he soon found that Serge was using magic to melt his path, but refrained from telling him that it would disturb more snow and alert more to his presence only because of the hungry look in the German's eyes. Von Schreiber was perhaps the only person he had ever been truly afraid of, though he'd never admit to it.

Kurt glanced up from his feet to see the air around the rod shimmering, and the magic so thick around the point that it brushed over his skin and slunk up his nostrils like a thick, greasy smell. Immediately his legs sprung with his reflexes, and he crushed his shoulder into the side of the Russian, who gave a grunt as they both fell in a heap behind a large patch of dying ferns.

"What D-?" Serge slapped a hand over the Russian's mouth to cut off his enraged roar, the slick leather half gripping his beard, and with the other hand his wand was pressed into the man's jugular. Kurt tensed and glared from beneath his snow covered eyebrows, thinking that if this was the end he would at least give a fight, but stopped when he realised that the German was peering at something else with such alertness that he was disconcerted. He craned his head to see himself, looking over the ferns and the other man, to find a sight that made him hold his breath in fear of being seen.

The air was shimmering like oil in a puddle, seeming to snake and shimmer about the trees and cast different colours in the light, and the magic was so potent that it made him want to be sick. He was distantly aware of the German's grip loosening as the man took a more hidden position, and he himself moved in caution as he watched the creature emerging from the slick of magic.

The great white hippogriff finally brought its hindquarters from the magic after seeing no danger, and its hoofs crunched in the fresh snow. It was a large male with its feathers puffed with the cold, proud and mighty, but it fell from a direct shot from the Russian and crumbled, lifeless, to the ground.

The two men stood from their hiding place, staring at the slick of magic that was still faintly shimmering when looked at with the side of the eye. One large and wild like a bear, the other dishevelled yet with the dangerous air of a leopard, they both had renewed, hungry fire in their eyes.

"It seems dat dis child iss not as clever as dey all tink." Von Schreiber took down his balaclava to reveal a crooked, frightening smile. "Let us go thru before it closes, vatever it is."

The Russian nodded, wearing his own feral grin. "I can almost smell hees death in de air."

…

Hagrid ambled through the forest, looking about him into the shadows that seemed to move about him. He'd sent Crabbe and Goyle back with four jars filed with moondrops hours before, yet since then he'd seen no sign of the other three children he had sent off into the forest. He knew the forest almost like the back of his hand, but even he knew that it was extremely dangerous to venture too far in at night. If any of them had gotten lost it could take days to find them, and even then there would be a chance that something else had found them before him. His massive form shuddered and he re-positioned his crossbow just thinking about it. Not only that, he could lose his job. Their deaths would forever lay heavy on his heart, and many people's lives would be ruined.

He didn't think himself a bad person, not at all. Yet bad things always seemed to happen to him.

He scratched his wiry beard as he moved deeper into the forest. If he didn't find them in an hour, he'd go back and tell the headmaster that they'd gone missing. He could only hope to find them in time. Before it was too late.

…

"I think I see some," Luna said in the silence, absently stepping over a large root while the other two had to scramble over it, Draco clutching his trousers in a vein attempt at keeping them clean.

Leodiensian felt relief flood through her with those few words, the thought of even the smallest amount of light a relief after ambling through the darkness for too long. Draco gave her a queer look as she sighed, feeling some small reward in her discomfort as he ignored the stings and scratches that marred his legs, and the pain in his feet from his expensive shoes.

They broke through the trees and into a small clearing. The faint sounds of running water hummed along with the cracking of undergrowth beneath their feet, and soon they found themselves walking across a small patch of grass toward a cluster of blue lights on the other side of the clearing.

"It smells of soap," Luna said merrily as she opened one of the jars with a sucking sound and began gently picking moondrops and placing them carefully into the jar. Both Draco and Leodiensian opened their jars and began pulling out handfuls of the flowers in the hope that they could get out of the forest quicker, neither realising that they were mirror images of each other.

"You're an idiot, Lovegood," Draco said hollowly as he ripped up another handful and stuffed them into the jar. Leodiensian gave him a dark look.

"Shut up Draco." She snapped half-heartedly. "You're right Luna. We used to have Sud bushes in our garden a while back. They grow near water, which is probably what we can hear, and their seeds are covered in foam that's used for making soap."

"It reminds me of my Owl." Luna replied.

"Lovegood just shut up will you. It's bad enough that I'm stuck here with you two simpletons without you reminding me that you're there constantly." Draco's nose creased in distaste as one of the flowers began to ooze a pearly liquid over his fingers, before he threw it over his shoulder and picked up another one.

"I wonder if there're any werewolves about," Luna mused aloud.

The other two tensed.

"Moondrops only grow near werewolves, so there must be at least a few."

"Shut up Luna," the other two snapped, before glaring at each other and continuing to stuff their jars.

Silence stretched after that, broken only by the sounds of the stream nearby and the occasional unidentifiable noise that made Draco tense. Soon they had grown used to the noises, and the task of picking flowers took all of their attention, fatigue finally overtaking their fear. Even Luna's great blue eyes were heavily lidded after a while, and their fingers worked numbly until they had filled all of the jars and they all warily got to their feet.

"Ah…" Draco said as they stood, peering about the clearing as he swallowed hard.

"What?" Leodiensian asked, smothering a yawn in her fist.

"We're lost," Luna said casually, repositioning the jars in her arms and looking about the clearing with a detached, dreamy expression. "Draco Malfoy has forgotten which way we came from, and we might not be able to get back before the beasties Hagrid mentioned come out to play."

Draco ran a suddenly shaking hand through his blonde locks, while the other girl looked out around her like a cornered animal when Draco didn't deny it. None of them wanted to see what beasties played, and they definitely didn't want to be a part of it.

As the silence stretched Luna smiled and peered down at her jars in a loving way. "These will light our way at least. How about we play a game? Lets spin around and point, and wherever we point to, we go."

Draco and Leodiensian looked at her with twin expressions of queer disbelief, before Draco shrugged, not liking the idea, but liking the idea of staying even less. Luna smiled and tenderly put down her jars, before she took two paces back and began to spin with one arm stretched out, and came to land on a patch of twisted trees and rotting undergrowth much like the rest of the forest.

"I-I'm sure Hagrid will find us eventually," The brunette said shakily as they began walking in the direction that Luna had chosen. "He's supposed to know the forest very well… it's only a matter of t-time now…"

"The oaf can't be completely useless…" Draco half agreed, once more clutching the material of his trousers as they broke into the forest and became surrounded by darkness and the twisted shadows of trees and other things that they cared not to think about. All three shuffled closer to each other as they walked deeper into the wood, unable to keep in a straight line as they wound around the trees and ditches that were scattered hap-hazardously in the darkness.

The forest seemed to be a constant replay of the same image. The trees all looked the same and the darkness was always moving, and after a long while their legs were aching and the glow from the moondrops was the only small comfort they had left.

"This is hopeless," Draco muttered, ripping his leg free from where it had caught on a low branch. "We could be going in circles and we wouldn't know about it. Let's just find somewhere we can stay for a bit."

"Aww… is little Draco tired? " Leodiensian mocked.

"Well, if you want to keep going be my guest. I'm just smart enough to realise when it's best to give up." He returned, glaring at her.

"Stopping is a good idea, Draco Malfoy," Luna said sleepily. "I would quite like to stop."

The other girl sighed and nodded; making Draco smile in triumph at the small battle won against the girl he had dubbed his newest foe. They continued walking for a few minutes, this time looking under the roots of trees and down ditches to find a safe place to stay. The silence washed over them as they became used to it… until something new and frightening broke the peace.

The sounds of footsteps echoed about the trunks of the trees surrounding them, but they weren't their own. All three tensed and looked about themselves with a mixture of fear and hope, but none could bring themselves to move in case they were spotted.

Soon after, the cause behind the disturbance came into view as two men wound around a tree a few hundred paces off before disappearing behind the trunk of another, though one look was enough for the three students to realise that they were dangerous. The man leading seemed almost the size of Hagrid, with wild hair protruding from the deep hood of his great patchwork robes. He held a forked stick between his hands, and seemed to follow wherever it pointed.

The man behind was just as frightening. He was smaller than the giant he followed, but his height was hard to distinguish, as he seemed to skulk about the trees like a cat. His face was shadowed and he wore dark clothes that merged into the forest, and the thin light from the moon glinted off blades as he walked.

Luna grabbed the other girl's hand and they crept behind the trunk of a huge tree to their right, with Draco following behind. None of them seemed to be breathing in fear of being caught, and only Luna dared to look around the trunk every so often to see if the two men were still there. After minutes of tense silence Luna looked back at the other two.

"They're gone," she whispered, and the three of them relaxed visibly.

"Who do you think they were?" the other girl asked. The other two didn't reply, both indulging in their own fearful theories. The silence after the two men's footsteps had disappeared seemed suffocating, and Draco soon found himself sweating. Leodiensian had shut her eyes against the darkness and was trying to convince herself that she was safe.

"We must follow them," Luna said after a moment.

"Are you mad!" Draco hissed, looking about himself fearfully. "Did you see the size of the one at the front? And who would be crazy enough to come into the forbidden forest anyway? They're probably nutcases."

"We're in the forest," Luna reminded him.

"Yes, but we didn't have any choice, did we?" he snapped.

"If you hadn't been so freaking frightened Malfoy, you'd have realised that the one at the front was carrying a Dowsing rod." Leodiensian said, her eyes screwed shut.

"So?" he said, "I wouldn't care if he was carrying a huge rubber duck."

"Don't you see?" she strained. "Dowsers use those rods to find things, like gold or people… or the way out."

Draco peered from behind the tree in the direction that the two men had come, suddenly less afraid. "You mean they might be able to get out?" he asked.

Leodiensian nodded.

"I am glad you agreed with me, Draco Malfoy. I will remember this for the rest of my life." Luna whispered, smiling dreamily as she stepped from behind the tree and began stalking quietly through the undergrowth. The remaining two looked at each other from the side of their eyes before looking away and following the girl in front.

Never in his life had Draco thought he would agree with Lovegood. He vowed to wash his mouth out the moment he got back to the castle… if he got back.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

I know nothing much happened, but the next chapter should be good.

Thanks to all the people who asked me to update. It was your enthusiasm that made me realise that this story is worth continuing.

Please R&R!

-Blue XxX


	8. Hypnotic

**You'll probably all hate me for leaving this update for so long, but it took me forever to plan this chapter. This is probably the most significant part the story so far… when HARRY COMES TO HOGWARTS! –gasp-**

about bloody time too, isn't it?

**Thanks to everyone who left suggestions on how Harry should come into Hogwarts, but I made my own and I hope you like it.**

**Please R&R!**

…

Chapter 8 – Hypnotic

A light rain had begun falling over the forest, congealing into fat droplets that fell from the leaves of the many great trees, making the sounds echo through the gnarled trunks. The smell of decaying leaf litter wafted from the forest floor, and all was eerily silent; not a bird's song could penetrate the foreboding gloom that encircled the great wood.

Nestled between the roots of a tree lay a body clothed in spotless white; contrasting so greatly to the wood surrounding that it shone like a star. It was a young man with black hair and a lightning bolt on his forehead; he didn't appear to be dead, but neither was he sleeping. A small smile curled the edge of his rose coloured lips but his eyes didn't flicker with dreams or nightmares, and his chest barely even rose with the shallow breaths he took.

Clutched in his hands was what looked like a large broach or a small amulet. It was oval in shape; a large strange stone rimmed with metal and rubies that looked like crystallised blood, and his fingers twitched on its surface. From between his fingers an eerie glow seeped out to bask his face, moving like liquid mercury or a thousand tiny snakes made of silver smoke.

By his side was a small blackbird seemingly dead on its back. With one wing stretched and its small yellow legs in the air it was surprising nothing had come to claim it… but then again, there was something not quite right with the scene.

The leaves around the young man did not stir, nor did they crunch and shiver as each shallow breath left his body. The small tufts of hardy yellow grass did not seem to bend beneath him, but instead rose from between his arms and legs as though he had been lying there for an eternity, and not a beetle or ant climbed the rough scar ridden bark of the tree he lay against. The forest around him seemed dead… or at least asleep.

…

Hagrid strode through the school, the faint moonlight making squares of light on the hard stone floor that bounced off his huge form as he passed. The suits of armour lining the walls seemed child sized in comparison to his giant shape, and his patched fur coat lapped at his ankles as he moved at the speed of a running man. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of his crossbow in frustration and nerves, and a small determined frown drew down the sides of his mouth and beard, and creased his small beetle black eyes.

It was now one hour and 42 minutes since the hour of midnight had passed, or more precisely 1 hour and 26 minutes since he had seen the retreating forms of three students scuttle into the forest, yet to be seen since. Fang, his huge boarhound, had disappeared with them, and even though he had circled the forest until he could go no further, the dog had yet to return.

He supposed he should he thankful for that at least, even though he knew for sure the hulking mass of dog was in fact a large drooling puppy at heart. At least then the children could have some form of protection… from the countless numbers of dangerous creatures just waiting to lap up a stray child. Hagrid shuddered. Even he, a half giant whose mother had been a good 16-foot, couldn't venture too deep into the forest and still be safe in the knowledge that he'd come out alive.

"Watch where you're- oh it's you Hagrid!" came a voice from below him as he was knocked back a foot from the impact. "How are- what's wrong?"

Hagrid blinked and focused on the man looking up at him in the gloom, his mind haunted with visions of children in red robes being eaten by wolves. He had walked into Sirius, whose cascading black hair was in disarray and eyes were rimmed with darkness, though still seemed piercingly alert in the gloom. He wore a pair of Remus's brown tartan trousers and a worn black jacket, though he wore no wizard's robes on top.

"O-o it's you Sirius. I didn' see you there." He said absently, running a dustbin lid sized hand through his thick matted beard as he tried to banish the images from his mind. "I-I'm lookin for Dumbledore, he weren't in his office y'see. Ya dun happen to know where he is do you? S'important."

Sirius looked up at the groundkeeper with a thoughtful frown, his interest sparked by the anxious look on the gentle giant's face. He was half surprised that the man hadn't drawn his crossbow and started shooting, with the force that he clenched his hands around it.

"Yes… I do know where he is," he said carefully, as Hagrid's small black eyes roamed about the corridor as though expecting attack. "London… I believe. Trying to talk Fudge out of sending a fleet of wizards after Harry because he's not dead." He glared hard at the floor until his eyes refocused. Just the thought of harm coming to his godson was enough to make his blood boil. "Why?"

Hagrid was torn. He needed to tell Dumbledore, but if Dumbledore wasn't there then he needed help to find the missing students. But Sirius hadn't had a full nights sleep for weeks, thanks to constant fretting about his godson's wellbeing, and he wasn't even sure that a Magical History teacher would be much help anyway.

"I've dun summin' and it ain't good, it ain't good at all!" he moaned, giving into desperation. "But we can' be talking bout it ere…"

Hagrid grabbed the man's arm and stumbled into the nearest classroom. It was little more than a cupboard, used to store spare chairs for when entertaining in the great hall. On shelves lining the walls stood hundreds upon hundreds of white candles, which usually floated like stars over the tables when dinner was being served, and it made the walls look to be made of them. He was vaguely aware of Sirius stumbling to keep up with him until he let go and shut the door, creating complete darkness in the room. Sirius lit his wand.

"This had better be important," he said, rubbing his arm, "that's the worst Chinese burn I've had in my life, and James was a champion." But upon seeing Hagrid's dirty face by the brilliant blue light of his wand, he dropped his arm. "Go on then," he commanded.

"I-I wen out to give detention tah sum 6th years… t-they were s'posed tah be pickin' moondrops for th' first year 'erbology class tomorrow," he began, scrubbing his face, "and wen I came tah where we were 'sposed tah be meetin' they weren't there! An- an I wen' lookin' for them after I took the other two back, and I ain't found them and I ain't found fang and there's beasties all over the place this time a night an-." He choked back a sob and collapsed onto a pile of chairs, which creaked ominously beneath his weight.

Sirius felt his heart begin to drum faster in his chest, and the last of his adrenaline pump around his body to make him feel more awake than he had been in weeks. Although he hated to admit it, he was excited about being able to do something for once instead of sitting around being unable to. And besides, Hagrid was always very protective over the students under his care, so he was probably just exaggerating.

"Alright," he said, "I'll go and grab my coat and meet you by the lake in no time at all. We'll have them back by the time the sun's up and let them off first two lessons to catch up on whatever sleep they've lost."

"N-no!" Hagrid said, wiping his cheeks, "It ain't like that Sirius! I ain't seen them anywhere, which means they've gone into the- the bad parts of the forest. I dun' even go down there! T-they'll be lost 'n scared 'n there's things in there that ain't nice. I'm sorry Sirius but me 'n you can't go in there jus' the two of us, 'n' I'm the only one that knows me way around the forest."

Sirius glowered and shot a stubborn look, but was beginning to realise the seriousness of the situation. Hagrid thought Dragons and things that could bite your head off were nice, so 'not nice' must be 'terrifying' in his language. "Fine," he said, "I'll go and get Moony, his nose is good this time of the month, and Minerva will probably still be up reading one of her lovey-dovey stories."

Hagrid's shoulders un-knotted and he gave a small watery smile. "Th-thanks Sirius, I-I dunno what I'd do without you."

_Probably just find another teacher, _Sirius thought glumly. _No one would go looking for me to help with anything, bloody fools. I remember a time I was the first one they came to… not anymore. _

"Yeah," he said, patting the giant on one massive shoulder and giving an encouraging smile, "The scariest thing we'll see tonight is Minerva in her hair rollers".

…

They'd been walking for hours. Perhaps it had been days and they hadn't noticed, the trees all rolling together as they passed, bushes and shrubs beginning to look the same, the darkness no longer so imposing. Their legs were sore and bruised and their robes were heavy with mud and water, yet they pushed themselves onward, heaving themselves against anything that would support them in the hope that it would lead to their freedom.

"I sort of-" Luna paused to push herself out of a piece of earth that had been congealed into a thick ooze of what she hoped was mud. "Sort of miss you two fighting."

Looking through her straggly straw-coloured hair at her two companions, she saw the glares aimed at her but was too tired to react. Draco Malfoy and Leodiensian Fall were the heirs of two of the most powerful pureblooded families in Britain, yet now they were unrecognisable. The girls face was covered in muddy fingerprints that crossed her cheeks like war paint, and Draco's usually immaculate blonde hair hung in rats tails stuck to his neck and forehead.

"Shut up Luna," was all they could mutter.

Luna turned her brilliant blue gaze back to the lead; just in time to see the two men they were following pass just a few hundred metres ahead. Some time ago the three of them had spotted the men deep within the forest, and had decided to follow them in the hope that they would lead the way out. Their original optimism had faded and their hope was lost, but they couldn't stop now.

"I have half a mind to give up right now," Draco muttered, "we've been following them forever and we've got nowhere at all."

"That's probably because half a mind is all that head of yours can hold," Leodiensian replied, managing a smug smile as she pushed herself forward.

"Oh shut up mongrel."

…

"Zey bicker like your women, Russian, " Von Schreiber muttered in his silky German accent, looking from beneath the brim of his hat at the huge man walking beside him. Kurt narrowed his eyes in anger but kept his gaze down, knowing that the unpredictable German could have his throat out before he knew.

For most of the miserable Scottish evening they had been traipsing through the woods, as trying to head in a straight line in thick magical forest was difficult at best, and with every yard they were coming closer to their ultimate goal and payment. Kurt could feel the pull on his rod getting steadily stronger, and had had to take off his fur gloves to prevent it from slipping from his grip with the force long back. Now he could almost feel the money lining his pocket, and no amount of nuisance was going to keep him away from what he had come for.

That included the children that had been following them almost since they had exited the strange hole in the air. There were three of them, each under 150pounds judging by their footfalls, two girls and a boy. Very easy to handle, of course, but a nuisance none the less. Both assassin and tracker had long back decided to let them follow, pretending to be oblivious to their presence; purely so that they would be underestimated, making the killing easier.

…

Hermione yawned and finished off her last piece of homework; an essay explaining the uses of charms in the home. Looking up about her she saw that everyone else had long since retired to bed, the fire now merely a meagre pile of glowing embers in the hearth and the air cold around her. Shuddering, she pulled her jumper about her closely and began cleaning the ink off the end of her eagle feather quill, a present from her parents last Christmas.

It was times like these that she wished for someone to talk to. Now the cold air and silence only served to remind her that she had no real friends within Hogwarts, and looking down at her quill she couldn't help but feel that she'd let herself down.

She didn't really understand why nobody liked her. She was smart and frequently updated on world news, she wasn't grotesque and didn't smell bad. But even her intelligence couldn't overcome the barrier she seemed to have between others, having never been able to communicate with people her own age, as she wanted.

She gathered her books in a pile of descending size and blew out the candle that she had been working by, wiping the red wax that dripped down the side onto her finger, before bringing herself to her feet and turning towards the girls dormitories. Tomorrow she would ask for some extra work from her teachers, if only to make use of the time that she would otherwise spend doing nothing.

But in the darkness of the common room, a tiny light from the grounds outside caught her attention. She yawned and moved closer to the window and peered through the misty glass that steamed under her warm breath. Running across the lawn were four people, one so large that it had to be Hargrid, accompanied by two men and one woman. As she peered closer and slipped off her reading glasses, she recognised the unkempt appearance of professor Black, the tall lean physique of professor Lupin, and the straight back and tartan skirts of professor McGonagall. Having studied people all of her life it was easy for Hermione to see the tense way that they moved, the constant turning of their heads as though looking for something, and the fast way that their lips moved in speech. Something must be wrong.

She put her books down and began chewing on her lower lip in frustration, peering at the conversing figures with worried chocolate brown eyes. They were looking over to the forbidden forest, pointing in the direction of the shrieking shack and talking loudly, although she couldn't hear what. She wanted to know what they were talking about with aching curiosity, the thirst for knowledge pulling her towards their conversation. Finally she gave in.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she murmured, "but satisfaction brought it back."

She put a pillow over the window to muffle the sound and banged until the stiff hinges finally swung open. Throwing the pillow to one side she leaned out of the window as far as she could go, and raised her wand to her ear.

"Amplifion," she whispered, bringing the wand from her ear and pointing it toward the teachers on the ground. Suddenly her head was swimming with noise, and she had to clutch the window frame to steady herself until the jumble of words and sounds sorted themselves into the conversation being spoken a hundred feet below.

"Are you quite sure that we shouldn't spread out? Surely we'll find them faster if we're all looking in different places," McGonagall's crisp Scottish accent sloshed against the sides of her head like liquid.

"I'm sorry pr'fessor but I'm the only one knows this forest, no offence meant o'course."

"Who did you say was lost again Hagrid?" Lupin asked.

"Mr. Malfoy, Luna Lovegood and Leodiensian Fall."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and concern. The dark forest had been her first area of study once she'd learnt she was a witch, and she had memorised every danger within it; pages upon pages of dangerous plants and animals, trees and magic that lurked in the shadows waiting for a stray student to wonder within the trees. Not only that, but even though Luna's mind was always so far away, she was one of the closest things to a friend that Hermione had; she was even pleasantly acquainted with Leodiensian although they had never really spoken. The thought of the two girls lost in the forest to Hermione was like losing friends, and she felt fear tighten her chest and quicken her heart, though she forced herself to continue listening.

"Oh dear," McGonagall sighed, "the children of two of the most renowned houses in Britain. If we lose them the school will have terrible foreseeable difficulties."

"Surely you don't just care about their houses Minerva," Black snorted.

"Of course not Mr. Black," she snapped, "I'm merely stating that if we lose these three we may lose much more."

"Well if you ask me-"

"Sirius let's just try to find them, we can argue afterwards," Lupin sighed, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Hagrid, please tell us where we should start."

"I last saw 'em walking off towards tha' direction from where they went off the track. The moondrops are off to the east, so we should start in tha' area and spread out from there."

Hermione muttered the counter incantation and watched as the teachers continued their discussion for a few moments longer, arguing about direction. Her eyes swept across the dark common room as temptation welled inside of her chest, and finally her gaze came to rest on her quill. With a few short calculations and spells she was sure she would be able to find where about the students would be, yet half of her argued that it was against school rules and was also terribly dangerous. Yet, if she found the students before the professors did, she would be the hero. She would finally get the attention she had been craving for years, and perhaps she would be able to finally make firm friends out of the girls in the wood.

…

By now the rod in Kurt's hands was shaking and pulling him towards this target like a hunting hound on a leash, and he had to lean against it with his great weight to stop himself falling forward. He could feel a smile of satisfaction curl his lips and wiry beard, and felt immensely proud of his achievements. In less than 3 months he had searched half of the globe for the infamous young man, and now after all of his trials and tribulations he had finally reached his goal, and with it enough gold to line his pockets for the rest of his life.

"Stop grinning und be quiet, you walk like a mammoth und ve don't vant out prize taking flight before ve can get to him."

Kurt glared at his companion from the corner of his eye. The German was thin and weather worn, but that only served to make him appear even more dangerous. The look in his flat blue eyes was not that of a hungry dog, but of a starving wolf, and he stalked forward through the undergrowth with his weapons ready in his hands.

Von Schreiber glanced behind him in time to see the three children shadowing them pass between some trees a few hundred yards back, and a cruel smile curled his lips, the stubble on his chin only serving to make him seem even more untamed. They were too far away to make out the emblem on their robes, but they were no doubt school children who had strayed too far from their group. It would be their last time.

Kurt followed his gaze. " What du we du about dah children?" he rumbled.

"Once ve have the boy, they will be disposed of. No one vill ever know ve vere here," the German replied silkily.

Kurt grunted. His mother had always taught him that women and children were a gift, and were not to be harmed under any circumstances. But since his mothers death more and more of her sayings had become lost on him, and although he didn't like the idea of killing children, he wouldn't mind too much if he wasn't the one doing it.

Suddenly the rod in his hands gave a violent jerk and freed itself from his iron grip, sending him sprawling, the decaying leaves imbedding themselves in his beard. He came up as his companion wrenched his head up by his hair, and he spat out a few leaves before looking up through his thick eyebrows.

"You might haf just lost us our target, fool!" Von Schreiber hissed, before dropping the other man and stalking forward.

Kurt hauled himself onto his feet and growled low in his throat before silently following his companion. Oh how he hated that man. With each footstep he took the forest floor crackled beneath him, and he tried to lighten his footfalls as he approached the edge of a very small clearing. Pushing a few low branches away effortlessly his small brown eyes widened in surprise, and immediately he realised that something was amiss.

On the roots of a large black gnarled tree lay their target, sprawled over the earth as though he were merely lounging in the sun, his white robes fanning out around him and his long braided hair lying to his side. His hands were clasped to his chest as though in prayer, and a small smile graced his serene face.

"He is asleep?" Kurt rumbled.

"Who cares?" his companion returned, scanning the surrounding area for any type of trap, "ve haf him and that is all I care for. Go on and pick him up, and ve can be back by sunrise."

Kurt took a step towards the boy but hesitated. Something about the situation wasn't right, and he could feel his primal instincts telling him to go no further. The air was still and odourless, the grass beneath his feet seemed brittle and resisting, and as he strained to listen he could hear nothing… no birds sang and no breeze stirred the trees; the silence seemed to be stifling him.

He looked back down at the boy. Since he had re-appeared rumours and stories had been spreading about things that he had done, places where he had been spotted and people he had seen. Perhaps he was capable of more than they thought; Voldemort certainly seemed eager to see him six feet under… Perhaps it had been the boy who had opened that hole in the air, a feat that no wizard had ever been able to accomplish as far as he could tell. Kurt shuddered at the thought.

"Vat are you waiting for fool? Gather it up and let us leave!"

Kurt hesitated a moment before walking over to the boy and picking him up effortlessly, slinging the limp white body over his shoulder and feeling a shudder run down his spine. After almost three months of searching they just find him, no fights, no struggles. Kurt had long ago found that nothing was easy, and that you always have to expect the unexpected.

…

Mere yards away a rustling sound broke the silence as a bush with leathery leaves of dark forest green crunched under the weight of shifting bodies. The three sixth years sat crouched within the spiny branches, each watching with horror and fascination at the scene unrolling before them. Draco Malfoy kneeled in the mud, for once nonplussed about the state of his trousers, Leodiensian leaned forward for a better look, oblivious to the dangerous men before her, and Luna's dreamy expression had been replaced by one of horror.

"Th-" Draco began, swallowing, "that's Harry Potter… isn't it?"

The three watched in horror as the large man they had been following picked up the drowsing rod and stuffed it in his pocket, while the limp limbs of their saviour swung as though they had no bones. The huge man carried the boy with ease, as though he were merely carrying a large pillow. His rugged, wild exterior contrasted greatly to the pristine white robes of the boy on his shoulder, though there was also a strange wild likeness about the two of them. Harry Potter's long braid swung from his limp head, looking like a snake crawling from a bag, and his outstretched hand was curled around something silver, like a birds talon.

As they watched his hand opened, and from it an oval shaped silver object slowly spun to the ground, catching what little light there was to reflect a bright red light into their eyes. As it did, something about the situation seemed to slot into place in their heads, and unnaturally fast all of their fears ebbed away to be swallowed by a great sense of duty, a sense of fate. It was almost as though the light from that stone had hypnotised them.

"Harry Potter can't die," Luna said softly, her great blue eyes fixed onto the limp form in front of her, her sandy eyebrows pulled down in a thoughtful frown.

"Are you mad?" Draco asked half heartedly, "We'll be killed… look at the size of that bloke, he's nearly as big as Hargid!"

However, his own words echoed hollowly in his head, and all of the future outcomes of the situation rushed through his mind. If Harry Potter died then there would be no hope against the dark wizards, and the lives of his family would be ruined. Yet if he did something and lived, he would surely be rewarded.

"He is… rather big," the other girl whispered, her brown eyes fearful.

"It doesn't matter," Luna replied, slipping her wand from behind her ear in a trance like state. "If we don't do anything, then we'll die anyway. Sooner or later."

With that she crept to her right and slipped behind the trunk of a nearby tree, making little sound at all. In a far off way she wondered how she had managed it, but all that really mattered was whether she was going to save her saviour, or fail.

"She's mad," Draco breathed.

Leodiensian nodded, and drew her eyes away from her friend. "But is it also mad that I want to do the same?"

Draco felt his jaw drop as the girl silently slipped past him in the opposite direction of her friend, lying on her stomach within the undergrowth, her brown hair and dark robes letting her merge into her surroundings.

"We're all going to die," he moaned quietly, clutching his head in his hands.

But through his fingers he caught a glistening silver light, and spread them to look at the silver and crimson object that had dropped from the hand of the boy before them. It looked like a broach, but the middle stone swirled like smoke and was every colour he could think of, glistening even though there was no light within the trees. His gaze seemed glued to it as though hypnotised. It lay half covered in dark brown, slimy leaves, but even though he could see that they were touching it, his mind told him that they were not. It seemed as though nothing at all could touch it. It was too precious for that… it was too precious to discard.

Draco felt his mind shift, and suddenly nothing else mattered but what he was about to do. It was his duty. It was his destiny.

He heard the smaller man chuckle as he rose out from behind the bush, aiming his wand at his chest and whispering an incantation. With a flick of his wand the man sent the spell ricocheting off a nearby tree, singing the bark, and with a cruel curl to his lips he moved forward, and Draco went out to meet him.

…

Hagrid stopped suddenly and put out his arm, which Sirius walked into before growling something under his breath. The night was still and dark, the shadows that clung to the forest moving even though there was not a sound to be heard. Trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their trunks gnarled and twisted like huge crooked arms reaching out towards the sky, and the further they looked the darker the forest became.

"What is it Hagrid?" McGonagall snapped, peering about herself like a cornered cat pretending not to be afraid.

Hagrid waited a moment, letting the silence of the forest swallow and hope he had held. Finally, he sighed. "It's nothin' Pr'fessor, jus thought I 'erd summin, that's all."

They continued their amble through the forest, the silence seeming to press at them from every angle, prickling them between their shoulder blades. Remus Lupin stood on his toes and sniffed at the air, but yet again the stench of many plants and animals masked the odour of the children, if they had been there at all. His shoulders sagged and he continued following behind the group, trying to keep alert for any danger, yet feeling more uneasy about the dead silence surrounding them.

"I could do with a drink," Sirius murmured beside him, looking up. Sirius's hair was littered with twigs and leaves, and even though he complained he looked more alive than he had in weeks. He looked like a boy who had gone rolling in mud. Apparently the excitement of their mission had overwhelmed his fear, as his stormy blue eyes were glittering and eager.

Remus smiled, "I'll make you my best cocktail, if you can find these kids." He said dryly.

"All right, deal." Sirius said, grinning.

From their right came a sudden rustling from the bushes, steadily growing stronger. As one, the professors brought out their wands, spells ready on their lips, and Hagrid brought his crossbow up to aim. After a tense moment Fang stumbled out from behind a bush and slipped in the mud before steadying himself, his large pink tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and his cheeks flopping as he ran. His purple brown fur stood out against the dark leaves underfoot, and as he approached he let out a pleased low woof, his long droopy tail wagging with excitement.

"Fang!" Hagrid shouted, dropping his crossbow and bending down to give the dog a pat that nearly toppled it over. Hagrid wiped a tear from his eye with a sausage-sized finger, "I thought I'd lost you 'ol boy, yes I did, yes I did."

McGonagall's mouth tightened with disapproval. "We should keep moving Hagrid," she snapped.

"O- o righ', yes," he muttered, still smiling at the boarhound like a father who had just found his son. "C'mon fang, lets get goin'."

But as they began to move onward Fang stayed where he was, his tail still wagging and his big wrinkled head cocked to one side, his drooping ears erect with attentiveness.

"C'mon Fang," Hagrid repeated. Still the dog didn't move.

"I said c'mon," he muttered, walking up to the dog and beginning to pull him along by the collar. Fang resisted and shook his head violently until the collar came lose, and ran out of Hagrid's grip before sitting down and looking at them expectantly.

Sirius felt a small, amused smile curl his lips. "Maybe we should follow him," he suggested.

"Don't be stupid Mr. Black," McGonagall snapped icily, "How could you ever think that following a dog would be helpful? We'd not only never find the students, but we'd become lost ourselves, and that would be no help to anyone."

"Actually Minerva," Remus said slowly, looking at the dog with interest, "If you get past the very strong dog smell about him, Fang reeks of the students we're looking for. He's been with them very recently. So… perhaps he does know the way."

McGonagall made a vexed sound in her throat, "surely stupidity isn't contagious."

"Fang… e's quite, err, smart Pr'fessor… e once lead me tah one of 'em dead unicorns a few years back, I dunno 'ow e found it, but e got me there no time at all." Hagrid said slowly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "'N ta' be honest we aint found em yet and we've been lookin almost an hour… we dun really av anythin' ta lose."

The transfiguration professor looked up at the tree men standing around her, each wearing a pleading expression of varying degree. Sirius was even pouting.

"Fine", she sighed. "We follow him for half an hour, and if we don't reach anything by then we go back to what we're doing now, do you all understand? Finding these children is of the up-most importance, and I won't have three silly boys costing the school three students."

Carefully avoiding pointing out that they were no longer boys, the three men nodded and followed the professor towards the dog, who woofed happily and turned back to trot in the other direction. Remus gave Sirius a queer look as he grinned.

"You owe me a drink," he said happily.

"What makes you so sure?" Remus asked slowly.

"Just a feeling," Sirius replied, tapping the side of his nose. "You could call it dogs intuition."

…

Hermione looked behind her to make sure that her spell was still holding, the silence of the forest making her afraid of her own shadow. Behind her, a long silver thread stretched between the trees that she'd passed, which lead back to the edge of the forest from which she'd entered through. She felt almost like Hansel and Gretel, although she was using something much more reliable than breadcrumbs. It was a spell she had learnt in one of her advanced DADA books, one first used by the wizards who discovered the Minotaur's maze hundreds of years past. It glowed silver when whoever cast the spell came near, allowing them to follow it without letting anyone else know of its existence.

She peered back down to the map in her hand. It was a map that she had taken from her 'Hogwarts: A History', which although didn't have much detail, did display the basic shape of the forbidden forest and it's main dangers. As she past her wand over it once more she watched as the small compass drawn in the corner moved towards the northeast, and so with a deep breath she turned in that direction and continued to follow. On the map a small red dot began moving in that direction, and she felt her heart quicken as she watched herself burrow deeper into the forest.

After almost an hour of searching she was beginning to question her ability. The charmed map was all well and good, but it was difficult to keep in a straight line when there were hundreds of trees in the way that needed to be avoided. Her hands were freezing and her socks were wet, and it was only a small comfort that she could find her way back when the threat of attack seemed all about her. As she passed the trees, they seemed to grow faces and reach out to snag her hair and robes, and more than once she had screamed from fright to find that there was nothing there at all.

She continued to walk for another half an hour or so, peering from her map to the forest ahead of her, sometimes barely avoiding walking into trees that hadn't been drawn. The forest had become darker as she advanced, though she tried to convince herself that it was all her imagination.

It was both a relief and a shock when she realised she had found them.

The compass on her page began turning in every direction, and for a moment her heart almost stopped as she thought the spell was going wrong. But then she looked up to see someone lying on the ground before her, and immediately she ran forward to help. It was Luna Lovegood, lying on her back in the middle of a small beaten track, apparently un-hurt but breathing laboriously.

"Luna!" she gasped, landing on her knees before the girl. "Luna can you hear me? What happened?"

Luna slurred something that Hermione couldn't make out. "What?" she asked.

"Where am I?" Luna murmured blearily, blinking and trying to open her eyes.

"You're in the forest Luna," she said soothingly, smoothing back Luna's straw coloured locks. "Where are the others?"

But her question remained unanswered as Luna's eyes closed and she succumbed to unconsciousness. Hermione Hesitated a moment before slinging the girls arm over her shoulder and dragging her over to a nearby bush, which she placed her under to try and hide her from anything that would pass.

"I'll come back for you Luna, you just stay there," she said, her voice shaking as she pushed herself upright and brought out her map again. The compass was still turning wildly, so she took a deep breath, brought out her wand, and continued northeast.

What animal could have done that to Luna? She thought, trying to tiptoe in the undergrowth and keeping low. She was frightened out of her wits at the prospect of continuing onward to face whatever had done it, but she couldn't let herself down and be a coward. It could have been anything, she thought worriedly, and so settled on the only spell she knew would work on almost everything.

Taking two deep breaths she squatted behind a nearby bush situated on the lip of a small clearing, from which she could hear the sounds of a struggle. She had never taken a risk in her life, and it struck her as strange that tonight was the first time she was trying, and now she felt more scared than she could ever have imagined being. Why had she bothered to take the risk? She was the least likely person to break any rules, and yet she had broken countless rules just leaving the walls of the school. Why tonight of all nights? It seemed to Hermione that it was like fate was twisting to manipulate her for its own bidding. But then again, she didn't believe in that sort of stuff.

With one last steadying breath she looked out into the clearing and was shocked to see that there wasn't an animal in sight. In stead there was one man firing spells at a student wearing Hogwarts robes, but whether it was Draco or Leodiensian she couldn't tell. As she peered about herself she could see that there were two more bodies lying by the edges of the clearing, one wearing Hogwarts robes and the other not. The flashes from the spells were making it hard for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and she couldn't see whom it was, though she wished she had an idea.

'All right Hermione' she thought, 'there's a man attacking your friend, do something!'

With only a slight hesitation Hermione pushed the end of her wand through the bush and squinted. It would be hard to aim as the man was covered slightly by a tree, but if she could time it for when he came out to cast a spell she may be able to get him. She watched as a spell was sent by the Hogwarts student and then waited a second before she could see the man lean from behind the tree to cast one himself. Just as his lips were forming the word Hermione shouted.

"Impedimenta!"

Silence stretched for what seemed like forever, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness again. She rubbed them with her fist and then looked out onto the clearing, just in time to see Draco Malfoy turn around shaking his head, as though trying to clear it.

"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, jumping out from behind her bush.

"Err…" he replied uneasily, blinking at her. "Hello mudblood." His gaze swept about himself as though for the first time, and he stumbled upon something before looking. There on the ground lay the prone figure of the smaller man he had followed, his skin and clothes frosted with blue eyes and his maddened eyes roving about his head wildly. He had been caught in a spell that wasn't easily broken, Draco knew, yet being so close to the man made his heart almost stop.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said weakly, and collapsed.

Hermione stood still for a few moments until her head cleared, and with little care her gaze passed over the blonde and a thoughtful frown knitted her brow. Why had there been a strange man in the forest? Why was he trying to attack the three students?

"Oh no," she gasped, looking over to the prone body to her right. She ran over and dropped to her knees, before rolling the girl over and opening her eyes. Leodiensian's pupils narrowed by the light of Hermione's wand, showing that she was still alive, and Hermione sighed with relief before she began looking her over. As with Luna, Leodiensian didn't appear to have any obvious injury.

"Strange," she murmured.

She walked back over to where she had hidden Luna to find her just as before. She levitated her back over to the clearing and laid her beside her friend, then walked back over to Draco who was leaning against a tree with his head in his hands.

"What happened?" she asked.

Draco laughed, a short bitter sound. "I don't remember."

"What do you mean you don't remember?" she exclaimed, "I just saw you firing spells at that man!"

"Oh sod of Granger!" he snarled, bringing up his head and looking her in the eye. "You wouldn't understand!"

Hermione was so taken aback by the haunted look in his eyes that she stood up without question and had begun to back away without thought. He sat hugging his knees protectively, and his stormy eyes were wide and scared, though his blonde eyebrows were drawn down in anger. His hair was in disarray and his robes were torn and muddy, and although he didn't appear hurt, Hermione wouldn't want to go near him again even if he were.

She felt something hard beneath her foot as she stepped back, and lifted it to look down. Expecting a rock of a piece of wood, she instead found herself looking down at an amulet half buried in leaves, oval in shape and silver, with a large beautiful stone surrounded with blood red rubies. Se could smell the magic wafting from it coiling about her head to make her feel sick, and she both wanted to rip herself away and become lost in it. She slowly bent down to look at the surface. The stone in the middle looked like a snow globe, but filled with mercury instead of snow, swirling about like a hurricane and drawing her in. She reached out to touch it, her fingers dancing as they approached.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione blinked and drew her eyes away, and suddenly the rest of the world seemed to come back to her, making her aware of what she was doing and where she was. However, the amulet was all that she could think of, and with her heart pounding she carefully picked it up and shoved it into her pocket. The weight was almost comforting. Hastily getting to her feet, she found herself standing face to face with her transfiguration teacher. McGonagall's hair was still in its rollers and net, and she wore her tartan nightgown beneath her teaching robes. Her wrinkled face was drawn back in a tight frown.

"What, might I ask, are you doing here? And what happened to these students?"

…

"Hah!" Sirius announced as they entered the clearing, "you owe me a drink Moony, and it'd better be the best you've ever made." he petted Fang on the head, and the dog looked up adoringly.

After receiving no answer he looked up into the face of his partner, and was surprised to see that Remus was staring straight ahead at something on the ground ahead of him. Remus's sandy brown hair hung over his chocolate brown eyes, which stared straight ahead, and his lips were parted in surprise. Sirius raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze, before it came to rest on a body dressed in white lying in the roots of a large twisted tree.

"That's weird," he muttered, ripping his leg out of a bramble and beginning to walk forward, "that doesn't look like one of our students."

Without thought Sirius walked forward and into the shadow of the great gothic tree, leaf litter sucking at his shoes and the early morning dew dripping from his black curls. As he approached a familiar scent reached him, though he couldn't pinpoint it out of his dog form, and he wrinkled his nose as he squatted by the body to gently turn it over. In the breaking light of early dawn Sirius's blue grey eyes were able to pick out the features before him, and his heart almost leapt out of his throat.

"Oh my god," he whispered after a shocked pause, looking down into the peaceful face of his godson. "Harry?"

Looking down upon Harry's face he couldn't help but notice how much he had changed since the last time he had seen him, as a small giggling child. His face was youthful but didn't look young at all, and a teardrop scar from his eye told Sirius that his godson had been through much without him. Sirius could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and suddenly he felt the days of lost sleep catching up to him. With a watery smile he slipped his arms beneath the young man and held him close, letting his warm tears run down Harry's forehead.

The last time that Sirius had seen Harry, it had been just after Harry's first birthday, the night that both of his parents had been killed. The older man's last memory had been that of handing a sleeping baby over to Hagrid, and telling him that he'd be back. He never did come back though. Being young and brimming with grief he had tried to catch the rat traitor and failed, imprisoning himself in the worst place imaginable. Not only did he ruin his own life, but he ruined the life of his godson too.

"Oh Harry, I've missed you so much," he whispered, before taking another long look so that he would never forget the face. His godson looked just as he had in the newspapers, a strong spirit and a pure soul. Though now in unconsciousness he had lost the sense of power he had seemed to emulate, and now felt small and fragile in Sirius's arms.

"What happened here?" he demanded, staring around himself wildly.

"If you would control yourself for a while Mr. Black, I was about to find out."

Remus and Minerva were knelling beside the two unconscious girls, holding their hands and running through the spells that they could have been hit by. Sirius could see no obvious physical injury on either, but that only served to remind him that there were many, much more dark spells, that showed no signs at all. He had never seen the transfiguration professor looking more worried, her wrinkles deepening as she frowned and her hands shaking as she ran her wand to scan the teenagers, and that said a lot seeing as she had taught him at their age.

"Although I'm frankly disappointed in your behaviour miss Granger" she said in a shaking voice, "and I find your actions were foolhardy and stupid, I am willing to overlook them just this once. I'm taking 20 points from Gryffindor for this mishap but and giving back 15 for your… lucky shot. Now, please tell me what you saw, and leave nothing out. This is of the up most importance."

Hermione appeared to be in shock, her large brown eyes darting about like a frightened rabbit and her fingers fidgeting with the lip of her pocket. Sirius knew the girl, having her as his prize student in history, and could tell that she wasn't used to being scolded so. Her shoulders were slumped in resignation and she couldn't meet the eyes of her teacher, and she gnawed on her lower lip so hard Sirius was surprise it hadn't begun to bleed. She wasn't dressed in her school robes, and instead wore a pair of jeans with a red knitted jumper which would both be ruined had she not been a witch. They were torn and muddy, and her jumper had even begun to unravel at the bottom, but it was nothing a little magic couldn't fix.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall snapped after receiving no reply.

"I- I just followed them with my map," she stuttered, holding out a piece of ripped parchment with a shaking, muddy hand. McGonagall took it and studied it with an expert eye for a moment, before nodding for the girl to continue. "And t-then I found Luna over there, and I asked her what had h-happened but she was disoriented and asked where sh-she was. So I h-hid her in a bush and came over, and Dr-Draco and that man over there were firing spells at each other. A-and I saw Draco's robes so I-I cursed the other man a-and he's over there." She pointed over to where Hagrid leaned over the frozen body, his face scrunched up in worry and anger.

"Go on," the professor encouraged.

"And I swear that's all I know professor!" she pleaded, "I didn't even know that Harry Potter was lying there until a moment ago! I don't know why those men were here or anything. Please professor; I don't even know why I came out here in the first place! I just saw you talking through the common room window and thought I could help, I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I promise!"

McGonagall put a comforting hand on the girls shoulder. "It's all right, we don't blame you for anything. Now, let's get back to the school before we come across any more trouble. I believe you know the way, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded and turned in the direction, all the while feeling the lump in her pocket with fear and jealousy. Why had she picked it up? It wasn't hers! But she couldn't bring herself to drop it either. Behind her she could hear the sounds of bodies being lifted, and of Draco's feeble protests to being carried. She stared ahead of her with wide eyes; barely aware of the silver line she was following.

Something strange was happening; something that wasn't good, and she had a feeling that it was lying in her pocket that very moment.

How could their illusive saviour just turn up out of the blue, unconscious?

Why were those two men in the forest?

Why did the Luna and Draco not seem to remember anything?

What was happening?

…

**This hasn't been beta'd yet because I was too eager to get it up, but it will be soon!**

**Sorry about all of the unanswered questions ;)**

I'm sure I'll answer them soon enough!

**Please R&R**


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